


Get To France

by Her_Dark_Materials



Category: Scott & Bailey
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Vacation, some drama some pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Dark_Materials/pseuds/Her_Dark_Materials
Summary: Set after Season 4.Gill is struggling with retirement, Julie's been left by her partner of 3 1/2 years, even though they'd just finally managed to plan a vacation in France together. What happens when Julie proposes that Gill come with her instead?
Relationships: Julie Dodson/Gill Murray
Comments: 37
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Returning to my favorite ship: Julie/Gill. Had a harder time than I thought taking these characters out of their usual environment, but we'll see what happens.  
> Thanks to CatNamedPants for beta-ing by listening to me rant about this repeatedly and offering advice even though she's firmly in the Rachel/Gill corner.
> 
> Oh and the title is just because I had Mike Oldfield and Maggie Reilly stuck in my head for no reason :)

_“I now consider myself to be at the beginning of the beginning of making something serious.” (_ Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother, 1881)

Chapter 1:

_Gill_

Gill feels rather than hears her mobile buzz next to her ankle and fishes it out of her purse, dropped next to the settee when she came home from the supermarket. “Julie Dodson” her screen says.

“Hiya, Slap”

“Hiya –“ she hears Julie at the other end of the line – a faint background drone tells Gill that she she’s driving – and calling from the speakerphone of her car.

“What’s up?”

“Fancy a drink at the pub, later?” Julie asks, without preamble. “If you can get away, that is.”

Gill glances in the direction of the kitchen - she’s not sure whether Julie’s being sarcastic or whether she genuinely thinks Gill might have plans for the evening. She _had_ planned to cook herself a nice meal, but that will keep another day and she hasn’t really seen Julie since her retirement party four months ago.

“Ya, alright –“ she says “It’s your lucky day, Slap, my life as a retired police officer is just boring enough that a night out with you at the pub sounds grand.”

Instead of the expected answering quip, she hears Julie yell, “Oh bloody hell!” and lean on her horn, “where’d you win your driver’s license ya twat?!.... sorry - ” She hears Julie’s voice back to normal volume again – “sodding, bloody incompetent, -”

“Are you alright, love?” Gill asks – “you sound like you’re giving a silver-star course on road rage there.”

“Yeah, yeah. . . long day” - there’s a weary sight at the end of the line. “You want to meet up at The Crown or the Royal Oak?”

Gill considers “Crown – it’s closer –when do you want me?”

“How about 7?. . . um..“ there’s a pause.

“Sure thing. See ya later then?” Gill asks, a bit puzzled by Julie’s hesitancy.

“Yeah. . . uh, Slap” Julie starts again, “is it alright if I stay round yours tonight?”

Gill leans against the kitchen counter.

“Course you can.” Their friendship goes back close to thirty years and Gill will always say yes to Julie, ask questions later – would probably do if Julie asked her to help bury a body. But something in Julie’s voice alerts her, so she asks, a bit hesitantly, “. . . is everything alright?

“It’s just – “ Julie says – “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“Right. . . “ Gill answers, wondering what’s up.

“Ta, see you in a bit then,” Julie says and hangs up.

Gill puts her phone down, shakes her head as if to clear it, then walks upstairs to put fresh sheets on the bed in the spare bedroom. Whatever’s going on with Julie sounds like a bit of a domestic. But it’s got to be a serious row if Julie is asking to sleep over. The last time Julie stayed over was during the Bevan case, when they’d been pouring over files so long they could barely see straight anymore. Annie hadn’t been happy about it, and Julie had flinched apologetically on the phone to her. Gill thought, really it was just a matter of practicality for Julie to stay at hers, since she lived a good deal closer to the station. That way they could catch at least four hours of uninterrupted sleep before they had to get up again and wade back into the thick of it.

***

Gill walks into the Crown about 10 minutes late – spots Julie at a corner table already halfway through a pint. She walks up to her, drops her purse and coat on the chair opposite and kisses her briefly on the cheek, scanning Julie’s face for signs of how serious the trouble is. Julie smiles at her – a bit tense and weary but that might be work as much as anything else. “How are you, retired lady?” Julie asks.

Gill smiles, though it feels a bit like a grimace. “Oh you know, not quite losing my mind - yet. . . . I’ll just pop over to the bar and get a bottle” Gill says. “You want another pint?”

“If you could just get me a second glass for the bottle?” Julie asks.

“Can do” Gill answers, turns on her heels and heads towards the bar.

When she comes back shortly later, bottle in one hand, glasses in the other, Julie has almost finished the pint. Gill sets the glasses down and pours wine into both. She takes up her glass and holds it up to Julie, “Cheers” – Julie clinks her glass against Gill’s “Cheers.”

Gill leans forward slightly, again scrutinizing Julie’s face. “Alright, Slap. Tell me what’s going on.”

She can see Julie inhale deeply, as if to steel herself. “Annie’s moving out” she says, exhaling.

“What?” Gill says.

“And –” Julie rakes her perfectly painted red nails through her hair, “She’s packing up her things tonight, and I didn’t want to be around for that and - well I didn’t want to be around for her sister arriving tomorrow morning to help her transport the stuff either” – she adds,– “so thanks for granting me asylum“ she tries to smile but it comes out pained “I could have camped out at the office, but I haven’t quite reached Rachel Bailey avoidance tactics level yet, and this gives me a chance to see my favorite retiree.”

A brief memory flickers through Gill’s head of when Janet had told her that Rachel was sleeping at the office to avoid Sean, only a few days before the man himself had arrived on scene to start a fistfight with Kevin. She sighs, inwardly grateful that this is something she doesn’t have to deal with anymore. She wants to ask Julie whether she’s heard anything about how Rachel is getting on in London, but that isn’t really the most pressing matter now. She studies Julie’s face: she wears that slightly pained look, as if she’s actually pitying Gill for having to impart these less than stellar news to her.

“I’m so sorry, Slap,” – Gill says, “Are you – why is she – did something happen?” she finally asks. “In particular? Things were going well, weren’t they?” In fact, Gill had thought that Annie might be the one for Julie when she’d arrived on the scene three and a half years ago. She was smart, funny, had her own career in HR and was independent enough not to be threatened by Julie’s success at work. On the downside for Gill, Annie was also the one that seemed to successfully domesticate the great Julie Dodson, so they saw a lot less of each other once Annie moved in with Julie than they already did due to their busy schedules. Nevertheless, Gill also feels guilty because she hasn’t actually spoken to Julie a lot, one on one, outside work for a while, even before her retirement. Come to think about it, the last few times they managed a night at the pub together, their conversations had focused on Gill.

She notices Julie picking at the skin of her thumb now, “Well, Annie says, . . . . she says, um. . . she’s met someone - someone who’s _not bloody married to her work -_ her words _-_ that it turns out she likes rather a lot and. . . so” – Julie smiles apologetically again and then her lips twist, once, as if she’s about to cry, but she hardens her expression, takes another sip of her wine.

Gill picks up the bottle, topping up both of their glasses. She takes a sip.

“But.” Gill says, “Annie _knows_ that the criminals don’t hand their work schedule in to us beginning of the month . . . it’s not a nine to five deal – and not when you’re SIO, for certain it isn’t. This is no different now than it was three years ago.” Gill isn’t trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

Julie gives her a small, but genuine smile “Yeah, you and me both know that, and Annie knows that – but knowing it doesn’t make it any easier – hardly having time on the weekends – coming home at all hours. . . I can’t really blame her – and it’s not like that’s never happened before” Julie says, then looks desolate again, “and I know things weren’t perfect between us for a while – only I’d still hoped I could work it out with Annie. But once she started the new job she’s had to go up to Halifax regularly and that’s made it even harder to spend time together. And I couldn’t cut down on my hours – and well, in Halifax, at the branch firm where she’s overseeing the HR meetings and so on, she’s met Maeve” - Julie lifts her shoulders a little helplessly, the tone of her voice as she says “Maeve” indicating that this is the woman for whom Annie is leaving her.

“That’s really just bloody – rubbish” Gill says - annoyed at Annie for abandoning Julie and at Julie for not even seeming angry – just resigned. Julie, who never lets anyone push her around at work, seems far too forgiving to Gill in her relationships – always ready to find fault with herself, not with her partners. And now she sits there, telling Gill Annie’s moving out – and she doesn’t even seem particularly surprised, and the fact that Julie just seems to expect to be left sooner or later makes Gill’s stomach quiver angrily.

Julie drains her glass, looking through Gill, as if into the distance “. . . ironic thing is, we were finally going to manage a holiday together, too. South of France.”

Gill remembers how excited Julie had been on the phone, a few months back. One of the few longer phone calls they’ve managed since Gill retired. Julie’d succeeded in calling in a few favors and got two consecutive weeks off in June to go on this holiday. The South of France had been Annie’s suggestion, if Gill remembers correctly – she’d been there on an exchange year in school or some such thing, near Montpellier, or was it Avignon? Now Gill wonders whether Annie had already met this other woman – _Maeve_ – at the time that Julie was pulling all these strings for her, but she doesn’t say that out loud.

“Well,” Gill says, standing up and moving in the direction of the bar – “This calls for something stronger”

“I have to get in to work tomorrow – unlike some people,” Julie calls after her, but it lacks her usual edge.

Gill returns with two rather large whisky shots. “Right” she says as she sets them down.

***

About an hour later, they’ve not only downed the shots but also finished the bottle of wine – And Gill has succeeded in making Julie laugh out loud at least twice as she’s regaled her with her adventures of trying to re-model her bedroom and choosing the right color of paint and talking to some employee in the home-improvement store who made the mistake “of giving a bit of friendly advice to the wrong daft old bint”.

Making Julie laugh, laughing with Julie always feels like being in the right place at the right time - like belonging, and it makes Gill wonder why she hasn’t called her more often in the last 4 months - or in the last year, really. They used to be inseparable. But of course work, partners, _getting kidnapped and not knowing how to bloody deal with people’s concern_ – those things have a knack of getting in the way. Not to mention the Pritchard case and Janet calling Julie – and _that_ video. Gill still feels the shame of that in her bones. A shiver runs down her spine, but she sets her jaw. At least they’re here now. And it feels so good to see Julie, even under the circumstances.

“You want another?” Gill asks, but Julie shakes her head, “I already had more than’s good for me on a school night. And I really do have to be in condition to go into the office tomorrow,” she sighs. “Lots of paper work after the Hawksmoor case.” Gill’s heard it mentioned on the news – high profile stabbing outside a restaurant, but hasn’t followed the details.

“Julie Dodson, since when have you gone all light-weight on me?” Gill asks, mock-outraged.

“Since I got old,” Julie says as she stands up to get her coat on and in that moment she really does look exhausted. It’s rare to see Julie anything other than poised and primed. Julie always had personality. But over the years she’s really grown into the professional role, blouses, blazers, heels, commanding a room just by showing up. Not that Julie doesn’t know how to have fun, that she definitely does, too. Gill remembers various occasions of living it up at the bars and clubs, when Julie turned women’s and men’s heads alike, – and alright those nights were a while ago, she has to admit – but it’s not like she’s not still turning heads – Gill has seen the looks Julie gets when she walks into a restaurant, or a pub, occasionally a briefing room - especially from some of the younger women.

Gill meets Julie’s eyes. “You’re not old, Slap, you get that right out of your head.” She takes a step towards Julie, adjusts the lapel of her charcoal blazer, “You’re gorgeous and powerful, and you’ll make the hearts of all the young DCs at syndicate 3 beat faster again tomorrow, hu?”

“Soppy cow,” Julie says, but smiles warmly at Gill – and Gill is stunned for a second at how beautiful Julie’s face really is.

***

“Right,” Gill says as she opens the door and pulls off her shoes – “you know where everything is – spare bedroom’s made up, but we’re having a tiny nightcap first.” She smirks as Julie goes to protest and moves over to the kitchen to put on the tea kettle.

“Oh alright then, go on” Julie says, realizing Gill isn’t going to force anything stronger than a brew on her, stifling a yawn, plopping herself on the couch and toeing off her heels.

About ten minutes later Gill sits down next to her, hands her a steaming mug. Julie proceeds to check her messages and emails on her phone, and Gill uses the time to text Orla, asking whether they are still on for Saturday afternoon. She does feel a bit pathetic that her daughter-in-law has become one of her main social contacts now, but they get along well and they both enjoy the pastries at Bisous so much that they’ve made it a regular date – once a month – which is reasonable enough for Gill to not feel clingy. They meet up and have a chat over some delicious éclair or piece of cake and it gives Gill an opportunity to learn more about how Sammy is getting on, even though he calls and texts her regularly.

Gill misses Janet, but somehow she hasn’t quite mustered the nerve to call her either – after all she has Chris now, and, though she does not quite admit this to herself, she also wants to avoid Janet’s keen ability to sense immediately when Gill is trying to hide something from her – like the fact that she’s struggling with retirement more than anticipated. When Julie puts down the phone and asks about Janet (Julie is another person with an eerie sixth sense for topics Gill would like to avoid) Gill tells her that she is “quite happy to not have to bother with thinking about Oldham at the moment”.

“Not even to keep tabs on Bailey?” Julie asks knowingly and smirks at her, which flusters Gill just a little bit. Rachel was her most capable young officer, even if she was a mess most of the time, of course she’d want to know how things were shaping up – how she was getting on at her secondment. But even that curiosity has not brought Gill back in touch with her former syndicate.

“Do you think you’re still going to go then, on your vacation?” Gill asks to change the topic, remembering how Julie told her earlier about the cute little apartment in Arles she rented, how she already booked plane tickets to Paris, train tickets from Paris to Arles, bought a guide book.

Julie frowns into her mug. “Nah,. . . suppose I’ll cancel all that now,” she says.

Gill looks at her “You could still go – “ she says, “I know it won’t be the same, but Jules, you’re working too much, you could use the break.”

“Oh but it won’t be any fun going alone” Julie says, looking disappointed. “Unless – “ she grabs Gill’s arm with her free hand, suddenly excited “You’re retired - you’ve got nothing to do . . . oh you know what I mean,” she interjects at Gill’s offended look, “You could come with me, instead!” She grins at Gill.

“I would hardly be a romantic replacement” Gill scoffs. She’s not sure it sounds like such a great idea, really. She can feel a sort of tug in her stomach that tells her part of her really wants to say yes, immediately, but there’s another, big part of her that hesitates, because what is the risk of Gill’s presence constantly reminding Julie that Annie isn’t the one with her?

“Oh but it would be fun, Slap” Julie insists. “You’re free in mid-June aren’t you? I’d be after Sammy’s birthday so you’d be here for that and it’d just be two weeks.” Julie looks at her, expectantly, her eyes shining in a way they haven’t all evening.

Gill breathes in “It does sound like proper fun,” she admits, “but let’s talk about it again, when we haven’t had several drinks, okay?” she asks, laying her hand lightly on Julie’s arm. “and when the general dust has settled a bit, hm?”

Julie’s smile turns into a bit more of a sad grimace now that Gill’s reminded her of Annie’s impending departure. Well done, Murray, she tells herself. She steps forward and enfolds the taller woman in a strong hug. She imagines she can feel Julie’s breath hitching once, like a sob, but then she just squeezes Gill back. “You get some sleep, okay?” Gill says when she pulls away.

Upstairs trying to fall asleep, Gill’s thoughts creep back to the possibility of going to France with Julie. She’s never had much time to go on vacation – a week in the summer with Sammy usually, when he was still in school. Some trips to the seaside, once up to London where she endured various pointless hours at sports clothing stores, when they had perfectly good stores in Manchester, before she finally managed to drag Sammy into the Tate, which, to his credit, he actually seemed to enjoy as well.

Getting out, getting away – and with Julie of all people. They’d finally have time for a proper catch up – thinking of that makes her realize how much they seem to have slowly drifted apart over the last years. They still click into synch whenever they do spend time, whether on a case or as friends, but now, after spending the evening in the pub, seeing Julie hurt and brave, knowing she’s tucked away in the guest room at the other end of the hallway, Gill suddenly feels the loss of the times when they’d rarely go half a week without seeing each other, calling each other, pressing heavily down on her. That was easy of course, when they were both single – after Gill’s divorce, Julie had practically half-moved in – helped her with Sammy, made sure Gill ate and slept and kept her sanity. Gill had gotten back on her feet, had found her stride at the syndicate. Julie had gone for a promotion. They both had less time, but they still made sure to catch up at the pub regularly. That stopped when Annie came into the picture. And Gill was happy for Julie, finally finding someone so suited to her, even if it meant that she barely had any time for nights out in the pub. Annie did seem to want Julie for herself and even though Gill wasn’t happy about that, she understands it. Because she has always been a bit jealous herself of how easily Julie makes friends, despite the fact that most people find her scary when they first encounter her. But Julie likes to laugh, and she likes to flirt a bit, and she gives as good as she gets. People like spending time with Julie. Unless they’re slackers who manage to get on her bad side, like Kevin.

Gill still feels a bit smug that Julie picked _her_ as a friend, when they’d just joined up - not that there were that many women on the force then, and they’d had to stick together just for that. But it was more than that. They just clicked right from the beginning and even on those evenings in crowded pubs or at clubs or at staff Christmas parties, when Julie inevitably found herself surrounded by people who’d want to talk to her, or buy her drinks, or drag her on the dance floor - before too long, Julie would always turn and seek out Gill in the crowd, make excuses to whoever was cornering her at the time and come speak to Gill instead. Having her all to herself for two weeks is tempting.

Only, Gill hasn’t told Julie how small her world has become recently – since her retirement she hasn’t left the house a whole lot. She’s begun various little projects, like repainting the bedroom – and she’s kept herself successfully busy - but she’s hatefully unsure sometimes how to move about in the world now that she’s not DCI Murray anymore, and at times she’s worried that without her job she is just terribly boring. Going away for two weeks, being away from anything familiar, in a country where she doesn’t speak the language, playing tourists with Julie – the thought alone makes her giddy and anxious at once.

_Just go to sleep, Murray_ , she tells herself. Julie will probably just cancel the vacation anyhow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Gill agree to go? Well...of course she will...

Chapter 2:

_Julie_

When Julie gets home after another long day of work, the apartment doesn’t seem considerably emptier at first glance, but as she wanders around she can spot the missing items right away. The checkered wool blanket on the couch, Annie’s favorite mug on the kitchen counter, the assorted ball point pens from various clients that used to sit in a cup on the sideboard, the stack of books next to the bedside lamp. . .

In the bedroom, Julie shrugs off her blazer, lets herself sink onto the bed, pulls her heels off. She feels deflated by these absences. Annie texted her earlier that she would come back at some other “convenient time” to collect the pieces of furniture that are hers.

Julie feels the prick of tears that she kept at bay successfully last night when she talked to Gill, tears brought on by the nagging feeling that she didn’t love Annie well enough, that she let another relationship thin out, get brittle, break apart.

Annie probably deserved more of an effort. Annie, who would find time to cook dinner every once in a while and make a casserole or a curry she knew Julie particularly liked. Annie, who would stop on her way home to buy a bag of Julie’s favorite coffee, who made sure that she had space in her life for movie night with Julie, for sex. Unlike Julie, she knew that work sometimes had to come first, but not _always._

Julie swipes at her tears half-heartedly. She knows she hadn’t been as involved in the relationship as she should have been, not for a while. She isn’t heartbroken – but she is deeply disappointed in herself for failing Annie, for not being able to be the person who would want to be with Annie enough, whom Annie could love enough to stay. She will miss her warm presence, her encouragement, the way she always believed in Julie, always listened to her. Julie tried to do the same for Annie, but often she only learned about a difficult decision, or setback days after it happened. Because she’d been late at the office, simply hadn’t been there to hear about it. She isn’t going to miss the silent – and sometimes not so silent reproaches, however: “. . . if you’d been there, if you’d answered your mobile, if you’d actually listened to my message, if you’d make a bit more of an effort . . .” in increasing frequency. Even when she did make an effort, it always seemed like too little too late for Annie . . . and she was probably right. Julie knows she isn’t easy to put up with.

Sitting at the pub, Julie had felt almost embarrassed in front of Gill. Gill who had loved Dave better than he ever deserved and who managed to be brilliant at work and a brilliant mom,. . . and then to lead her own syndicate while being a single mom to Sammy. Gill had lost out on love through no fault of her own. She knows Gill thought Annie was good for Julie – a steady presence. She had wondered whether Gill would be reminded of Dave by Julie’s failure, not that Julie had any affairs – except that one kiss with Diane years ago, but that had really not been her fault – but she still wonders if Gill would see in Julie a recurring pattern of someone who just couldn’t be bothered to do their part of the relationship properly.

In the morning, Gill had gotten up while Julie was still in the shower, made Julie coffee and toast before she had to leave for the office. Had handed her a glass of water and a paracetamol first thing when Julie padded tiredly into the kitchen. Seeing Gill bustle about in her ridiculously cute flannel pajamas had made Julie want to bring France up again, but Gill had reacted so cautiously the night before, she’d felt that Gill didn’t really believe she seriously meant it when she asked her to come. Which was daft, really – of course it wouldn’t be the same vacation – but who better to go on a holiday with than your best friend? And it’d be a million times better than going alone and just feeling lonely. And if she canceled now, who knew when she’d ever get the chance again?

Julie picks up her discarded blazer again, disentangles her phone from the inside pocket. “Will you think about France?” she texts Gill.

Then she shoots off a second message “I promise it’ll be fun.”

Her phone buzzes. It’s a reply from Gill, “How is the apartment? Still got furniture in it?” it reads.

Julie sighs, frustrated that Gill is avoiding her question. “Yes, Annie’ll get the furniture sometime next week. Goodbye comfy leather couch.”

“Too bad.” The reply on her screen reads. “I’ll think about it, Slap.”

That makes Julie smile. She sighs and puts her mobile down, then picks it up once again.

“And if I promise to take you anywhere you want to go?” she texts. Her phone chirps.

“Now you’re just trying to tempt me.”

***

_Gill_

In the end, Gill decides to go when Julie starts messaging her pictures of the small apartment she rented and of the town of Arles. It all looks so lovely, and sunny, and carefree. And she really needs to get out of her house, bedroom repainted or not, she’s beginning to feel cooped up.

When she finally texts Julie that yes, she’ll come, Julie calls her immediately from the office.

“Now, it’s not a big place . . . and there’s only one bedroom,” Julie says, as if Gill hadn’t already concluded that from the pictures – and Gill can hear her hesitate, “but as long as you don’t snore that should be fine.”

“ME?” Gill asks incredulously “May I remind you, if memory serves, it’s you who snores like a logger when you’ve had more than two glasses of wine.”

“Yeah well, memory might be getting dodgy at your age, though” – Julie is laughing into the phone now. “The living room couch can be folded down as well, I think,” she adds more quietly, “if you prefer that.”

“Now don’t be daft” Gill interrupts her. “Oh and Slap?”

“Ya?”

“I will insist that you let me pay my share of the cost –“

“That’s not. . . “

“Julie Dodson, just email me the details.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

It takes three more insistent reminders before Julie does send Gill the details. But when Julie comes over with her guidebook of the region and they ponder the pros and cons of getting a little rental car to be able to visit different places in the area over a bottle of red, Julie seems happier and more light-hearted than Gill has seen her in a long time, and her enthusiasm is so contagious that Gill stops worrying about “replacing” Annie on this trip, or about leaving her comfort zone, and if she’s honest with herself she’s really happy she agreed to this.

***

June 12th arrives in no time, and when Gill gets into Julie’s car to go to the airport, Julie is grinning from ear to ear at her, and then begins to hum along to the radio blaring some 80s pop song, despite the fact that it’s 7:30 in the morning and Julie is _not_ a morning person. Gill wonders briefly whether Julie is really taking Annie’s departure as well as it seems, or whether she’s overcompensating. But then they’re on the M56 and Gill turns the radio down to go over details of their travel schedule once again.

“Okay, so the train leaves at 1:30 p.m. . . . Our flight takes an hour and twenty minutes but with the time difference that’s two hours and twenty minutes - we’ll arrive at 11 at the airport and then we’ll still have to get to the Gare du Nord – that’s about half an hour. So if everything goes alright that will even give us time for a cup of coffee...and then a 4 hour train ride.” Gill ticks the stops off on her fingers as she goes through them.

“Yes, Madam OCD, we’ve been though this several times – it’ll all be fine. I checked the flight app, the plane is set to leave on time, and we can pick up the key at the agency in Arles until eight in the evening, so even if we’re delayed, we will still be absolutely fine, _chérie_!”

She overemphasizes the French endearment, and grins at Gill, who rolls her eyes.

They park the car and grab their bags from the trunk. Being in the rather badly lit car park makes Gill’s breathing shallower, but they get out of there fast enough and she sticks close to Julie as they make their way through the throngs of other travelers.

Boarding begins soon after they arrive at the gate. When they’re seated Gill sends Sammy one last text before shutting off her phone. Julie has let her have the window seat after Gill’s confessed that this is only her third time ever on a plane, first time in ten years, and Julie likes the aisle seat anyhow – gives her a chance to stretch out her legs every once in a while.

Julie rummages through her purse, pulls out the guidebook and begins to leaf through it again. She remains more or less absorbed in it throughout safety instructions and when the plane begins to push back she shuts the book on her lap, leans back, and closes her eyes. Gill glances out the window as they roll down the runway. The plane accelerates and begins to lift off.

As the wheels leave the ground Gill involuntarily grabs Julie’s hand, and Julie opens her eyes, with a slight gasp. “You alright?” she asks. “Yes, I . . . just forgot how the take off feels so. . . are you sure this thing can fly?”

Julie laughs out loud, but squeezes Gill’s hand. “Yes, I am sure, Slap. Just breathe, okay?” Just at that moment, the plane drops a little, making the overhead bins rattle. Gill grips Julie’s hand harder, grips an armrest with her other hand. _Bloody hell_.

Julie does look a bit more sympathetic now. “Never said you were afraid of flying, Slap. . . we’ll be up in a minute and you’ll hardly feel anything.”

Gill nods, closes her eyes but keeps a strong hold on Julie’s hand. She feels annoyingly small and viscerally scared – which reminds her of the way she felt with Helen holding a knife to her throat – which was not at all the same, she reminds herself firmly. She’s glad there’s only the two of them in the row, and nobody else seems to take any notice of them. _This is a plane, it’s perfectly safe, people travel in them all the time – don’t be ridiculous_ – Gill chastises herself. She only lets go of Julie’s hand when the flight attendant comes around distributing drinks, a good fifteen minutes after they’ve stopped ascending. Gill has to pull herself together to not order a Gin & Tonic then and there, but she’s stuck to her rule of not drinking when she’s anxious and she won’t break that now. Julie begins leafing quietly through the guidebook again and lets her be, doesn’t even say anything about it when Gill can’t help herself but reach for her hand again when they descend.

They catch a local subway from the airport and find the right track at the train station. Julie speaks and reads French fairly well, so they have no trouble navigating. Julie also buys them two coffees and some sandwiches for the ride before the get on the platform and wait for their train to arrive.

As they settle in their seats and Julie lugs up their bags into the overhead bins, giving Gill the window seat once again, Gill, relieved to be shot of the damn plane, feels a surge of excitement running through her, like she’s really about to go on an adventure. Julie catches her smile and an answering one spreads across her lovely face. “Alright?” she asks?

“Yes, perfect” Gill answers as the train starts rolling out of the station.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, they're in France. It's beautiful there and so the story fluffs along for a bit - but what happens when a young beautiful French woman lays her eyes on Julie? 
> 
> Still bit iffy about being outside the usual canon frame but then I enjoy these two together so much :) 
> 
> Also I apologize, my French is rusty.

Chapter 3:

_Gill:_

Arles is beautiful. Their little apartment looks just the way it looked in the pictures. It’s on the second floor of an old stone house – the entrance lies through a courtyard – walls vine-covered. There’s a cozy living /dining room with a kitchenette, a bedroom with rather narrow double bed but a divine mattress, soft pillows, and almost floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a tiny balcony, barely broader than a shelf, opening unto the courtyard from the living room and upon seeing it Gill knows immediately she’s going to break her non-smoking rule on this trip. It’s a small place, but sunlight floods in from all sides. It has a rough stone floor that warms up deliciously where the sun falls in through the windows, and white linen-curtains that move lazily in the breeze.

They arrive just before seven in the evening, decide against going out for dinner – buying some baguette, cheese and wine, along with some milk and coffee for the morning at the corner store instead and they dig into their picnic before even unpacking, both smiling broadly. Gill feels vibrant, almost giddy. She had no idea _how much_ she needed to get away from Manchester.

She wasn’t sure how it would be, sharing a small apartment, sharing a _bed_ after puttering around the house by herself for so long. But Julie’s presence is still so _familiar,_ so reassuring, that she drifts off to sleep easily the first night –with two weeks of vacation stretching languidly in front of her.

In the morning she wakes before Julie, who is lying on her stomach, hair tousled and lips slightly parted, snoring softly. Julie can sleep basically anywhere and everywhere – always could: couches, hammocks, sleeping mats, bench in a club once or twice – Gill smiles fondly to herself thinking she’s lucky Julie hadn’t planned a camping vacation with Annie. She moves quietly, though the bedroom door squeaks slightly, and sets about putting the Bialetti on the gas stove to make some espresso. She opens the balcony door and breathes in the wonderful fresh morning air. It’s only 8 am and the tiles under her bare feet are still chilly.

When the espresso begins to bubble up, she finds two cups, adds milk and sugar to her own, and just a bit of hot water to Julie’s, before pouring the dark, strong coffee over it, then patters back into the bedroom. “Rise and shine, Slap,” she says in a mock singsong, and Julie grunts, opens first one eye and then the other.

“Whattimeisit?” Julie asks, putting her forearm across her eyes.

“Oh, just gone eight” Gill answers, sits down on the edge of the bed and holds out a cup to Julie.

“You’re not serious, Gill – “ Julie whines “Nobody gets up this early on vacation.” But she does prop herself up and reaches for the cup. “Oh but this smells divine.”

“Very black. Just the way you like it,” Gill says – “I did add some water because this espresso is very strong”

“Thank you, Slap.” Julie says and takes a sip. “Oh, this is _good_ ” – then she looks accusingly at Gill again, “but seriously I’m not getting up this early every morning.”

“Good to know, you’re just as grumpy in the mornings as you used to be,” Gill says. “Tell you what – I’ll pop down to the bakery that we saw the street over yesterday and I’ll get us some proper French croissants. For breakfast”

“Sounds wonderful.” Julie yawns.

“And by the time I get back, you’ll better be awake and ready for our first day of adventures,” Gill says and swats in the general direction of where Julie’s bum must be under the covers.

Julie groans, sets her cup down on the floor and pulls the blanket over her face. “No wonder they call you Godzilla” she grumbles into the cloth. But when Gill comes back, having successfully pointed at the croissants in the bakery while holding up two fingers to indicate how many she wants, Julie is leaning against the balcony rail and has put on another round of coffee.

The day is warming up rapidly. Gill puts on a dark blue jersey summer dress, which she hasn’t had occasion to wear in years, and Julie comes out of the bathroom wearing jean shorts, a faded t-shirt, and a baseball cap, and Gill almost laughs because the look is so different from the way Julie dresses for work and Gill had quite forgotten how much she enjoys this side of Julie – how much she enjoys being one of the few people who get to see this side of Julie.

As Julie applies sunscreen generously to her legs and arms before handing the bottle over to Gill, she asks “did you bring a hat? You might wanna wear something – it’s only June, but it’s supposed to get fairly hot today and us pale British lightweights would make prime victims for sunstroke.”

“No,” Gill answers, squeezing lotion on her hand. “I couldn’t find my sun-hat – I think I threw it out years ago. I brought a bandana but it’ll look just ridiculous with this dress”

“What, Gill Murray, looking anything less than perfectly styled? We can’t have that.” Julie smirks. “First order of the day we’ll find you a perfect lady-hat.”

“Oh, go on,” Gill grins at her, “Not all of us can pull of the ‘I can’t be bothered but I’m still hot’- lesbian look”

Julie raises her eyebrows “Really, you think I’m hot? I was going for comfy, really – I mean god knows how many hours you’ll chase me through the streets now that you got me up at the crack of dawn.”

And if Gill blushes a little at Julie’s quip it’s just because she’s so excited for her first day of vacation in a million years to begin. They do find a little store that sells all kinds of sun-hats. It’s a touristy place that has all sorts of ridiculous shirts and knickknacks, but there are some pretty straw hats as well. Gill finds one with a dark blue rim that complements her dress and when she tries it on together with her sunglasses, Julie grabs her arm and swears she positively looks _like a bloody film star at the Cote d’Azur_ and she simply _has_ to buy it.

Gill feels a bit silly, but also flattered, and the sun is getting hotter by the minute so she does buy it. They wander around town for the rest of the day – have lunch at a little bistro – and visit the arena after filling up their water bottles at a public fountain, and splashing some water on their faces.

As they sit on the steps of the amphitheater Julie says in an awed voice “Can you imagine – this was built almost 2000 years ago. And there’d be people sitting here to watch whatever spectacle they put on. . . ” her gaze goes distant as if she’s trying to look back into that time. “Well I suppose it’s the same with places at home really, but you just never think about it, do you?”

“I used to love history – I mean they find all this Roman stuff and piece together how people lived, and what all they invented – it’s a bit like police work, really.”

Julie grins at her “Is that your subtle reminder that you want to get to that Roman museum in Nîmes as soon as possible? she asks. Gill laughs, “I do recall you promising to take me wherever I wanted to go.” She squints at Julie’s arm and shoulder. “Ugh, I think you’re getting burnt. Your skin looks a bit reddish there.”

She fishes the sun lotion out of her purse and hands it to Julie.

“Ta.” Julie says, “I totally forgot to pack any. Annie always says I’m only organized in my job, hopeless in my free time,” she shrugs her shoulders and looks at Gill who feels herself tense up a bit. This is the first time Julie actually mentioned Annie since they started the trip, and even in the weeks before, she did not talk about the breakup or the relationship terribly much. Julie also seems to realize this as she ducks her head, and mumbles “. . . said. . . sorry, I didn’t mean...” - and Gill wants to tell her “it’s okay, you’ve spent over three years with Annie, you only broke up recently, of course she is on your mind,” but she finds herself unable to string the words together, suddenly absurdly feeling like she might cry if she tried. So she settles for laying her hand on Julie’s forearm and saying, “She may have overestimated how organized you are at work,” which elicits an ungraceful snort from Julie that makes Gill grin in turn.

“So, where to next?” Julie asks as she’s applying a new layer of sunscreen.

Gill looks at her watch, “Actually, it’s already four – I feel quite heated up from the sun, too. Maybe we should just go back to the apartment, each have a cold shower, and then have an aperitif. Make a nice salad for dinner and then maybe take a walk later when it’s cooled down just a little bit. We don’t need to overdo it the first day.”

Julie mock-gasps at her – “I see Gill Murray has found the switch to her vacation-mode?”

And they stroll back to the apartment. They fall into an easy pattern in the first few days. They explore, try out different little cafés and restaurants, stroll along the canal in the evening, wander between market stalls at the Boulevard des Lices and buy three different kinds of honey because they cannot decide which they like best.

Gill feels freer and more relaxed than she has in months, and Julie equally seems to enjoy herself. They find they both like the herbal tartness of Pastis, which turns out to be _the_ regional drink, and Julie who actually speaks French greatly enjoys chatting with locals whenever she has a chance.

***

_Julie_

Within three days they even find a favorite little bar, recommended to them by a guy in the Tabac that Julie somehow ended up in conversation with over buying a pack of cigarettes. Her French is quite rusty, but she enjoys the melodious softness of the sounds and people are so friendly that she feels little inhibition despite her doubtless various mistakes.

Le Météo is in a small side street that tourists hardly frequent and it’s just dingy enough that it reminds them both of their early days on the Manchester police, making a night of it after long shifts. But in contrast to the dumps in Manchester, this bar has a wonderful wine selection and somehow the atmosphere just feels right, not least of all because of the tiny fountain in the tiny courtyard where they’ll stand and have a cigarette – holiday exception. They’ll take an evening stroll in the cooling air, along the canal and then pop over to the bar for a glass. When they do it the second evening in a row it feels like a tradition already.

On the fourth evening, as they stroll along the canal, in the reddish tinge of the evening sun, they contemplate their first outing beyond the borders of Arles. “We could go to St. Rémy” – there’s a bus that goes there, if we don’t want to bother with a car – the line number is somewhere in the book” Julie says.

“Or we could go to Aix-en-Provence – which is supposed to be a really nice day trip,” Gill says, “ or Nîmes. . . but we’d need a car for either one.”

Gill stops and looks out on the water. Julie smiles to herself, at Gill’s dreamy expression. She looks so relaxed and so alive. “I’m so happy that you convinced me to join you here, Slap,” Gill says. They watch the water ripple lightly and Julie inhales the evening air as she steps up behind Gill on the little lookout platform along the walk. She can smell the scent of sun lotion radiating off Gill’s warm skin. “It’s just to bloody perfect, isn’t it?” she sighs and hugs Gill from behind, putting her arm across Gill’s collarbone, lightly pulling the shorter woman against herself and putting her chin on Gill’s head so that she fits into the crook of her neck.

The gesture is entirely unselfconscious, but Julie is suddenly reminded of Gill’s physical resemblance to Annie, her height and slight figure, and a pang of longing shoots through her, which she realizes isn’t a longing for Annie, but for a kind of closeness – belonging . . . It lasts only a second and when Julie lets go of Gill and steps away she tries to do it casually, to not to let on that anything is out of the ordinary.

Gill remains perfectly still, as if she hadn’t even noticed either Julie’s closeness, nor her letting go, but it seems awkward, oddly out of character that neither one of them would make a bantering remark about the situation, and Julie feels a bit embarrassed – wondering whether she’s overstepped their line of comfort.

Finally, she clears her throat, “So what will it be tomorrow, oh lady of tourism?” she asks.

“Oh I think we should go to St. Rémy – not bother with the car for now. It has the sanatorium where Vincent van Gogh spent some time” Gill says. “and then we can rent the car later in the week, keep it for a couple days – go to Aix and then Nîmes? See the Roman museum,” and she winks at Julie, who grins back at her, grateful to be back on familiar territory.

***

It’s that evening in the bar that they meet Anne.

Gill has popped off to the bathroom, leaving Julie at the small high table in the corner to wait for their usual carafe of red they have ordered. Julie has just taken out her phone to look through some of the photos she’s taken that day when suddenly she hears a voice close to her and looks up, “Excusez-moi?”

She finds herself face to face with a young woman, probably late twenties, with a radiant smile, dark eyes and gorgeous dark curls, dangly earrings, tight jeans and a scruffy tank top.

“Je peux partager votre table pour un moment? J’attends une copine, et franchement vous êtes plus belle que les gars par-là.”[1] The woman nods over her shoulder at another table where three young men are laughing rather loudly, and gives her a winning smile.

Julie isn’t entirely sure she’s understood everything but if she’s not mistaken this young woman just called her beautiful. She stutters a little “Oui, bien sûr. . .”[2]

The wine arrives, and Anne orders a glass for herself from the waiter. Learning that Julie is from England, Anne starts asking her questions, about what she’s doing here, about her job, about how she likes Arles. It turns out Anne is from Toulouse here on vacation herself, visiting some friends. Absorbed in conversation, and frankly Anne’s stunning appearance, and trying to catch everything she is saying in the now fairly noisy room Julie doesn’t notice Gill until she’s back at the table.

“Oh, hello” Gill says, raising her eyes slightly questioningly at Julie, while picking up her wine glass.

“Oh, this is Anne,” Julie says, “she’s waiting for a friend and she asked whether she could just share the table for a bit – apparently we’re the more attractive option to the guys over there” she nods over her shoulder.

“Or _you_ are” Gill says “I was gone to the loo” but smiles as Julie continues, “she’s from Toulouse, she’s a film student there.”

“C’est ma copine, Gill” Julie says to Anne, as Gill extends her hand.

“Ah, vous-êtes ensemble?” Anne asks.[3]

“Nous travaillons ensemble. . . avons travaillé ensemble. . . Elle est venu avec moi, parce que. . . Ben, c’est une longue histoire.[4]” Julie laughs slightly uncomfortable under Anne’s open gaze, and not sure whether she wants to bring up the separation from Annie, because even if Gill doesn’t speak French she’d definitely catch the name. She is also aware that Gill is looking enquiringly at her, obviously waiting for her to translate.

“Peut—être tu pourrais me la raconter une fois?”[5] Anne asks, smiling, touching Julie’s shoulder lightly. Julie is sure the surprise shows on her face. Clearly this woman is bluntly hitting on her, uncaring that she’s just met her, uncaring that Gill is standing right there – even if she doesn’t understand what’s being said – she can no doubt read body language very well. Nevertheless she is thrilled and flattered because Anne is stunningly beautiful and seems so warm and carefree.

Gill interrupts, “I’m just going for a fag in the yard”

Julie shoots her an apologetic gaze – she’s fairly sure Gill thinks she’s making a fool of herself, but, frankly, it just feels good to feel attractive and she wants that feeling to continue just a little longer.

Anne glances at her phone and sighs “Alors elle me dit dix minutes – ce qui veut dire vingt au moins. Mais tu peux aller fumer si tu veux, je serais bien.”[6]

But Gill has already made her way outside and Julie stays.

“Alors, dis-moi, qu’est ce qu’on doit faire ici, quand on n‘est pas touriste,” she asks.

Anne laughs again, shakes her curls and launches into a description of her favorite little movie theatre and the old films they show there once a week. Tomorrow actually, in fact she’ll go there and doesn’t Julie want to come? Bring her friend?

Anne puts her warm hand on Julie’s on the table and squeezes it briefly. “J’aimerais bien te revoir. T’es intéressant, toi.”[7] she says with that dazzling smile again.

And Julie doesn’t quite know what’s happening, why this woman who could clearly attract the interest of pretty much anyone in this room if she wanted, is seemingly so interested in her, but she also feels flattered, and wonderful.

Anne looks at her phone again, which lights up with a new message. “Alors, voilà, elle est arrivée”.[8] She says. Then pulls a pen and a notebook out of her purse, rips out a page, and begins to scribble something down. Then she pushes it over to Julie, letting her know that this is the address of the movie theater, and to be there at 7:30 the next evening if she’s interested. Then she bends over, kisses Julie on the cheek, waves a hand at Gill who is approaching the table again at just that moment, and leaves.

When Gill gets back to the table, Julie feels embarassed laughter bubbling out of her. She shrugs her shoulders a bit helplessly – “I honestly have no idea what that was all about,” she says, but she knows a pleased grin is spreading across her face.

“Well obviously that girl was very taken with you,” Gill states, giving Julie a sly look, putting an emphasis on _girl._

She invited me – us – to go out to the cinema with her tomorrow,” Julie says, sliding the slip of paper over for Gill to see.

“She didn’t write down her number?” Gill asks, “She must be very confident you’ll show up.” Smirking at Julie again, who feels herself blush. Luckily the light in the bar is too dim for Gill to be able to see.

“More likely she doesn’t care either way,” Julie says, attempting to sounds nonchalant.

“Well she looked like she was half in love with you when I arrived back from the loo, and she couldn’t have been there for more than five minutes at that point,” Julie feels Gill’s close scrutiny, and she tries hard not to squirm, she knows Gill will notice, has probably noticed already, way too much how annoyingly taken Julie is with Anne’s flirtation.

But Gill doesn’t shoot her a snide comment, smiles fondly at her instead, “Oh, go on, you should go. You deserve a nice time – she was all gorgeous and French – and we don’t have to be joined at the hip.”

“Wouldn’t you want to come, too?” Julie asks.

At that Gill laughs outright – “Yeah, bloody likely, I wouldn’t understand a word they’re saying anyways. No, I’m going to amuse myself opening a bottle at home and finally getting on with reading my novel. And you can text me if you need me to make myself rare.”

“Gill!” Julie yelps – but then catches herself and grins at Gill “She has a place here, surely we’d go there,” and Gill shoots her a vacant look and then they both burst into laughter.

“I should have known I can’t go anywhere with you without you dangling a woman off of your arm after five minutes,” Gill quips and Julie continues laughing because it’s just the kind of banter that she and Gill have kept up for years, but she does wonder, in the back of her mind, whether she’s imagining the edge in Gill’s voice. And yes, she’s asked Gill to come with her on vacation, but Gill is right, isn’t she? They don’t have to babysit each other every minute of every day. She does worry whether she’s letting Gill down somehow, by flirting with Anne, but then again, Gill could go out and meet a dashing Frenchman any minute, and she’d wish her well, wouldn’t she? There’s a small part of her mind that is quite sure that she wouldn’t in fact be happy about Gill meeting a dashing Frenchman, but she pushes the thought away.

She looks at Gill, who pulls out her mobile and says “I’m just going to give Sammy a quick ring, he tried to ring earlier and he should be off his shift now” and resolutely jostles her way through the crowd out the door. Julie smiles to herself, seeing her friend maneuver her slim body through people. It reminds her of first seeing Gill in action on crime scenes, all those years ago – and her no-nonsense attitude which made her adore her from the start. Julie keeps smiling as she drains the rest of her wine and follows Gill outside.

***

[1] “Can I share your table for a moment? I am waiting for a friend and honestly you are more beautiful than the guys over there”

[2] “Yes, of course.”

[3] “This is my friend, Gill” (could also mean girlfriend in French) | “Are you together?”

[4] “We work together. . . have worked together . . . she’s with me because. . . Well, it’s a long story.”

[5] “Maybe you could tell it to me, sometime?

[6] “She’s telling me ten minutes – which means at least twenty. But you can go smoke if you want – I’ll be fine. | “So tell me, what does one do here, if one isn’t a tourist?”

[7] “I would like to see you again. You interest me”

[8] “Oh, she’s here.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More French sightseeing. Also, Julie has a date - and Gill tries to be a good friend.

Chapter 4:

_Julie_

They catch the bus to St. Rémy and visit the sanatorium St. Paul de Mausole. It’s a beautiful building but Julie is most taken with the garden: an abundance of lavender – and the scent of it mingling with the scent of pine and warm sand.

Strolling through the garden, she looks around to see where Gill has gotten off to. She sees her standing a ways off bending over some lavender sprigs, in the process of taking close-up pictures. She’s wearing her sun-hat today together with khaki linen-pants and a dark blue t-shirt. Gill always looks classy – Julie thinks, proper. Gill probably would manage to look classy if she were setting out to dig potatoes on a farm. And then would break out in a triumphant grin when she’d dug up more potatoes than anyone else. Julie knows people tend to underestimate Gill because of her slender appearance, but they generally only do it that first time.

Gill has been quiet all morning, though not in a hostile way, . . . but Julie notices an absence of banter and witty remarks. She wonders whether Gill is more displeased about Julie’s upcoming “date” with Anne than she wants to let on. Is she worried Julie’ll abandon her and their plans together? Is she jealous because it’s been a while since she’s been on a date with anyone? Julie shakes her head, slightly – get a grip Dodson, you’re overthinking all of this, she tells herself. After all, she and Gill have always made a great team – they didn’t do petty jealousy. Julie did come close to it, when Dave showed up on the scene, with his predictable charisma and big spender generosity and _Gill fell for it_. Julie couldn’t believe it. Dave could be good fun and all if he was in the mood, but he could also be a macho arse, which Gill waved off when Julie pointed it out to her, saying “Oh Jules, I know he’s not _perfect,_ but he’s smart, and he’s funny, and he’s _fun_.” And Julie tried in vain to shut out the petulant, nagging voice inside her mind saying “but I am those things.” She had left the pub early in fact, because she knew she was being irrational, she didn’t want to ruin Gill’s evening, also couldn’t stand to look at Gill looking _that way_ at Dave for another minute, and she went home and got drunk in front of the telly and cried and told herself it was just because she was sloshed and this Dr. Who episode was particularly emotional. When she’d dragged herself to their engagement party three months later, she’d admitted to herself that she was scared Gill would abandon her to her new perfect life of job, husband, and home. Took her a good while longer before she admitted to herself that she’d always fancied Gill a bit, or more than a bit. It was Yasmin who got her to admit it, but then of course by that time she was happy with Yasmin, and Gill was pregnant with Sammy, and Gill hadn’t abandoned her as a friend like she’d feared, and so everything was just perfect really – and she felt relief that she avoided the mess of letting herself seriously fall for her straight best friend.

Julie’s mind strays to the moment of absent-mindedly pulling Gill against her, at the canal. It’d been instinctive, in the moment. She’d just felt happy and grateful for the beautiful evening and to have Gill there to share it with. And Gill’s small form warm and quiet against her – it felt . . . so peaceful. As soon as she’d realized what she’d done she stepped away from Gill, hoping she hadn’t made things awkward. It wasn’t that they weren’t affectionate with each other, but Gill’s total lack of reaction had been odd in itself. Likely Gill just felt sorry for Julie – took the spontaneous embrace as a sign of her loneliness . . . and probably wasn’t entirely off the mark.

“You can basically hear the lavender buzzing” Gill says, suddenly next to her, jolting Julie out of her reverie, and shows Julie the close up shot she took of some bumblebees crawling around the purple blossoms.

They eat lunch at a small backyard café and wander the streets until it’s time to catch their bus back to Arles. They arrive back at five and suddenly Julie feels a nervous flutter in her stomach thinking about Anne. She’d pushed it to the back of her mind in the gardens but now she thinks of Anne’s open smile and the way she looked at Julie. Will she make a complete fool of herself by showing up at the cinema? And showing up without Gill, which will make her interest that much more obvious? Will it make her look desperate?

Then she thinks, what the hell? What has she got to lose after all? If nothing else, she’ll watch a movie and go home – no harm done. Jacques Tati’s _Mon Oncle_ is on the bill, she hasn’t seen that since her teen years, but she remembers it as hilarious. So it should be a good time. And she doesn’t want to give Gill the satisfaction of taunting her if she backs out now.

So she showers and after some debate with herself puts on the one summer-dress she’s brought. She hasn’t worn a dress in ages, and she frowns at herself in the mirror.

“Slap?” she hears Gill shout from the kitchen “Do you want a brew before you go out?”

Julie jumps, then shouts back “Um. . . yeah. . . sure” She starts stripping off the dress. She opts for maroon linen pants, burgundy top instead. Grabs a light sweater for when the evening cools down. It’s much more ordinary, but at least she feels comfortable and won’t have to worry about that.

She ventures out of the bathroom just as Gill is putting two steaming cups of tea on the table. Gill looks at her, smiles “You look nice, Slap”

“Thanks,” Julie is nervous. “You sure you don’t want to come along?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll be here, reading my novel, like the fifty-year old retiree that I am.”

“Slap, I – “ Julie begins, but Gill grins at her.

“I’m only pulling your leg. You are on vacation – many miles from home – go and enjoy yourself, hu?”

“Right. You’re just waiting for me to get going so you can pull your lover out of the closet, don’t you?” she smirks at Gill.

“That’s exactly right” Gill says smugly, then she sighs “If only. I guess I wouldn’t mind getting myself a new boy-toy. Only, they’re such a bother when they’re not being fun.”

“Had enough looking after teenagers?”

“I’ll leave that to you tonight” Gill arches an eyebrow at her –

“Oi!” – Julie swats her sweater in Gill’s general direction. “Right, I’m off – it’s about half an hour walk.”

“You got your mobile?”

“Yes, mum.”

“Don’t you mum me, Dodson, just text me if you’re gonna stay out all night, alright?”

“Yes, mum.”

Gill walks over to Julie and kisses her on the cheek “You have fun. I’ll be here.” And for a second Julie feels an overwhelming urge to forget all about going out and cuddle up next to Gill with a glass of wine and a book on the couch. But instead she just wriggles her fingers at Gill, says “ta-da” and walks out into the evening.

***

_Gill_

Gill exhales once Julie has shut the door. She’s decided that she will be happy for Julie – because Julie deserves something good – something fun, but against her better intentions that resolve does feel a bit hollow. She tidies the kitchen, opens a bottle of red and pours herself a glass. Then she bundles herself on the couch with her novel – which is not really a novel but a fascinating true crime book called _Forensics_ – which gives amazing insights on the science of it.

Julie had laughed out loud at her when she saw her unpack it on the first evening.

“So I promise not to bring any work on vacation and you bring _that?_ ”

“I’m retired – I get to indulge myself if I want” Gill had replied. – Julie had given her a funny look and then asked her, sort of hesitantly – “Do you miss it? I haven’t really asked you – have you given any thought of doing consulting for the NPIA? I ran into Pemberton a while ago and he said he’d heard they were interested. . . ”

“I thought you weren’t going to talk about work” Gill had challenged, a bit more sharply than she intended – Julie’s question made her acutely uncomfortable – though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Julie had raised her hands to signal that she’ll back off and Gill had shot her an apologetic look –

“I’m – I’m sorry, Slap it’s all still a bit – they did contact me – but I told them - . . .”

She hadn’t entirely remembered what she’d told them – some bumbling excuse, taking a rain check – maybe in 6 months time. . . . Keeping her eyes fixed on the cover of her book, she hadn’t wanted to admit to Julie just how much out of her depth she had suddenly felt, without having work to distract her from the lingering anxiety after Helen, which has gotten loads better, she has it under control most of the time, but it’s not completely gone. But what if she were to return to work and all the same problems came back with a vengeance? And there are new nagging doubts about some of the decisions she has made during her working years – some of the cases, some of the ways she dealt with her officers. . . if she can’t admit it to Julie, then who is there? But on the other hand, she didn’t want to worry Julie, didn’t know how she would deal with her concern, her pity.

“I just need a little more time to sort myself out a bit” she had said, her voice sounding hatefully small to herself, her fingers fumbling with the dust jacket. Julie had looked at her then– steadily – fondly – “Of course you do,” - had shaken her head slightly, as if to clear it, “We don’t have to talk about work. I’m sorry I brought it up – I just have been wondering whether I’ve been a bad friend for not bringing it up. I know I was involved as incident commander and then as SIO on the Pritchard case, but you can talk to me, you know – I wouldn’t – I won’t tell anyone else.”

Gill had smiled at Julie - her tough Julie who is at the same time so caring – such a fundamentally good person. “I know that, Slap. I know.”

They hadn’t talked about it since – days had been too sunny and lovely to bother with thoughts about work, but it felt good to feel close to Julie again, more like they used to be in their early years on the force.

***

Gill is determined to enjoy her evening alone. She makes it through two pages before her thoughts flow back to Julie and she imagines Anne fluttering about her – mesmerizing her with those deep brown eyes, her wild curls.

After Annie, Julie deserves a boost to her confidence. But Gill cannot rid herself of this niggling feeling that she might not see much of Julie for the whole second week of their vacation – or that they might have to drag Anne along when they go to Aix-en-Provence, when they go to Nîmes, when they go anywhere, really. And obviously Anne will probably turn out to be one of these people who are just filled with noteworthy and obscure facts about all these places and Julie will be completely fascinated and Julie will smile at _her_ and Gill will tag along like an unwanted little sister. A part of her mind is growling at an imaginary Anne, _Get your hands of her, she’s mine._

She takes a big sip of her wine. Maybe she should take a walk to clear her head?

She walks their usual route, along the canal. Smokes a fag and tries once more to convince herself that if Julie wants to enjoy a fling on her vacation, she will be a damn grown-up about it. She walks by the spot where Julie had suddenly pulled her into a hug, from behind. In that second she’d froze because – another thing that Gill hasn’t told Julie – she’s still easily startled. But then, the next second, leaning back into Julie’s warm and loose embrace had felt – safe – it had only lasted a moment. Then Julie had let go of her again, stepped away, neither one of them saying a word. She wonders if Julie feels much lonelier than she has admitted to Gill.

When Gill returns to the apartment, she feels calmer. She writes some postcards – one to Janet, because she does miss her, one to Sammy and Orla, one to her mom, and then gets back to her reading.

The book is fascinating and she ends up reading for several hours, murmuring sounds drifting up from the streets through the balcony door – and makes considerable headway in her book. She goes to bed around midnight, wondering if Julie will come home. The film must have ended latest at ten. They probably went out for a drink after. She checks her phone – no messages. She refrains from sending Julie one, lest she truly behave like her mum.

***

At some point she must have drifted off to sleep, because she wakes with a start when she hears the apartment door slam. There’s some shuffling and then the bedroom door squeaks.

Gill groans and turns over. “Sorry, Slap” Julie stage-whispers. She sits down heavily on the bed. After fumbling around for something, Julie says “sorry. . . gotta turn the light on real quick, okay?”

Gill groans again and throws her arm over her eyes as Julie switches on the bedside lamp. “Whattimeisit?” Gill asks.

“Just gone two”

“Didn’t actually expect you back tonight” Gill says, sleepily – peering at Julie now from under the crook of her arm.

“Oh, don’t be daft” Julie says, her voice just ever so slightly slurred. Then she grins enthusiastically at Gill “That movie was hilarious. I think the last time I saw it, I was maybe twelve years old. Saw it on telly with me dad. There’s basically no dialogue though, so no need to even speak French. You would have been just fine.”

Julie tries to pull her shoes off. “We went to this cute bar around the corner – that Anne knows the owner of – after – Must have had what four Pastis and then some wine. Ugh. . . she lets herself fall back onto her pillow.

Gill squints at her. Julie seems to be glowing and giddy and exhausted at the same time. “Well, did you snog her?” Gill asks, unable to help herself.

“A bit” Julie grins.

“And – how was it?”

Julie grins even wider “Fantastic.”

“Then why are you here?” Gill says, more petulantly than she meant to.

“Oh, you know” Julie says and her grin falters to a thoughtful expression, “I didn’t want to leave you here all on your own.”

“I was sleeping peacefully until a minute ago,” Gill objects, “when you snowed in.”

“Oh. . . “ Julie fumbles –suddenly very interested in the bedspread, not meeting Gill’s eyes, squinting at her against the light, “It was all good fun – but you didn’t really think I would get my kit off with a twenty-eight year old - ”

“and why-ever not?” Gill asks, propping herself up on her elbows clearly undecided whether she wishes to deter Julie or spur her on to have a holiday affair.

“Because – “ Julie looks at Gill again, gestures at herself haphazardly.

“Oh come on,” Gill says “if you’re fishing for compliments you woke up the wrong tired bitch – you know she only had eyes for you from the second she met you. No offense, love, but I don’t think she’d expected you to secretly be thirty.”

Julie shakes her head a bit ruefully. “Right. . . . well, she invited me to hers for more drinks – but. . . there were two other friends of hers who were also coming and they were all in their twenties or early thirties, and I just felt . . . a bit old and tired I suppose. And you know,” she adds, laughing, “if it’d gone alright I probably would have moved in with her next week. Or bought her a ticket to Manchester. . .”

Julie manages to get herself back up into standing position, grabs her pajamas, and makes her way to the bathroom. 

Gill, now quite a bit more awake then five minutes ago, has to admit that that last comment isn’t entirely off the mark.

The truth is, Gill remembers more than one time when Julie would sit on her couch, sobbing, over a woman. Julie had no trouble picking up women, not with that stunning figure and that smile of hers. And Julie wasn’t daft by a long stretch, but just every once in a while she’d fall in love head over heels and move in with her lover a week after meeting her basically, and swear she was the one. And usually that didn’t end so well, because the woman in question either turned out to be needy and clingy in the worst way, or figured out that everything was going a bit too fast for her taste after all, and left running at full speed. To be fair, this hasn’t happened in a long time. In their thirties, after Gill had gotten married and had Sammy, Julie had settled down as well. She had two really serious relationships before Annie. One lost out to Julie’s career, eventually, the other one just over general differences in how they pictured the future. Then she just focused her energy on her job – and then she’d met Annie. . .

Julie comes back out of the bathroom, and when Gill turns – ready to get comfortable and go back to sleep, she sees that Julie is in tears.

“What’s up?” she asks, a bit dumbfounded – “ thought you had a nice evening. . . is there something you haven’t told me? Did something happen?”

Julie sits back down on the bed heavily, “No. . . I’m - no. . . , ignore me. I’m just. . . feeling sorry for myself, is all.” Julie sniffs, “for being ridiculous and infatuated with a French girl, who's barely thirty, like I’m having some sort of mid-life crisis.”

Gill sits back up, squeezes Julie’s shoulder. Julie doesn’t usually get tearful unless she’s well sloshed. “I think you’re just a bit drunk love and you’re thinking it’s all more dramatic than it is, hu? Get some sleep.” She suddenly feels protective of her friend, who seems to be emotionally all over the place. She leans in to give Julie a quick reassuring hug, but feels Julie snuggle against her, warm and heavy and clumsy from the alcohol.

“You’ll be alright Slap,” Gill says quietly. “Let’s just get a bit of sleep first, alright?”

And when Julie lets go of her, she tucks the covers around her, reaches over her to turn off the light. She lies in the dark, listening to Julie’s breathing evening out and then turning into a quiet sort of snoring and then she drifts back off to sleep herself.

***


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. 
> 
> Julie wakes up with a bit of a hang-over - and remembers the previous evening. Gill is still trying to be a good friend. 
> 
> Will these two ever see they're made for each other?
> 
> Sorry if I bungled up any of the French.

Chapter 5.

_Julie_

Julie wakes up because she is thirsty. It is still dark outside. She moves gingerly, partially because she doesn’t want to wake Gill (for a second time that night) and partially because her head feels rather fuzzy and sudden movements do not seem like a good idea.

Luckily she keeps a bottle of water right next to her side of the bed – she slowly unscrews the lid and drinks half of it down. Gill next to her seems to be deeply asleep.

Through the fog of a beginning hangover, her mind wanders back to the evening:

***

Anne is standing outside the small movie theatre and smiles widely when she sees Julie approaching. She’s wearing a light anthracite summer dress that gracefully flows around her. Anne steps up to Julie, kisses her on both cheeks as a greeting and lets her hand linger on Julie’s bare upper arm. “Je suis tellement contente de te voir,” Anne says enthusiastically, and Julie smiles, tries to find the words to answer. She is saved by the arrival of Anne’s friends, Isabelle and Henri, a couple. As they get in line to buy their tickets, it turns out that Isabelle speaks fluent English - spent a year in Birmingham during high school – and they talk about that for a bit as they settle in their seats. Isabelle and Henri live and work in town: he’s a photographer, she wants to be a novelist and even though they still get money regularly from their parents, it isn’t a lot so they live in a quite crowded flat-share, which is apparently the reason why Anne isn’t staying with them this time around. Last year, they say, Ahmed had just moved out and so she could have his room for the month. . . then Anne and Henri and Isabelle launch a rapid conversation in French talking about Ahmed, and the art project he is doing in Montpellier as part of his new job and Julie, who is having a bit of trouble keeping up with what’s being said, catches just enough to think how strange their lives are – at twenty-eight she was a copper, doing shifts earning money – and yes doing her share of drinking and partying nights but she was never this. . . bohémien.

She thinks about Gill and the sarcastic remarks she would probably make about these “kids” if she could hear them talk, with their grand theories about _life_.

Anne catches her eye – winks at her, leans over and whispers in her ear “on t’ennuie?”[1]

Julie smiles, shakes her head, her stomach fluttering at Anne’s earnest gaze. “T’es très belle” Anne whispers and takes Julie’s hand. Julie can feel herself blushing. 

“Tu es . . . .” she’s searching for the right word “étonnante.”

And while Henri and Isabelle are taking a selfie to document the fact that they are about to see the _absolute classic_ “Mon Oncle” as they say, Anne lifts Julie’s hand and drops a kiss on the inside of Julie’s wrist. And Julie is glad for the semi-darkness of the theatre, hoping it hides the awkward mixture of disbelief and goofy grin that she is sure must show on her face.

The movie theatre is filling up fast and when the film begins the atmosphere is incredible. People are laughing and talking and genuinely enjoying themselves in a way that Julie has never witnessed in an English theatre. Though it’s been a long time since she’s seen a movie in the cinema. Usually she and Annie would be lucky if they managed Netflix movie night at home once a month.

After the film, the mood is good – they decide to go to Chez Amad just around the corner, as Anne explains – Amad is the owner and she’s known him, they’ve all known him for years. When they arrive, Amad is behind the bar – a middle-aged Moroccan with curly hair, bulging arms and a beautiful welcoming smile. He kisses Anne, Isabelle and Henri, and then Julie on both cheeks, as she is introduced by Anne. Amad pours them a round of Pastis and they move to the back of the bar where they sit on old plushy armchairs. Anne’s knee is touching Julie’s and she takes Julie’s hand again – her friends don’t even bat an eyelash.

Julie follows the conversation fairly well as Henri tells them about an upcoming photo-exhibition in New York in the winter that he desperately wants to see. Julie is on her third Pastis when more people arrive- friends of Isabelle’s, of Anne’s – and they all include Julie in their round of bisous, and they don’t look twice at her, though she must stick out, old enough to be their mother.

Anne doesn’t let go of her hand, even while she gets into a quite passionate discussion about Tati’s _Play Time_ with one of the newly arrived friends. Julie isn’t familiar with the film. She has a fairly interesting conversation with one of the women who arrived later – was her name Carole? – who is an engineer for and NGO, planning to spend the fall and winter in Chile working on some sort of a water-sanitation project. The general volume of the bar is making it harder to follow details of the conversation, and Julie finds herself just smiling politely at some points, without barely an idea what is being said. Julie wonders whether she should text Gill, and whether Gill has gone to bed. She gets up and when Anne looks at her questioningly, she indicates she’ll just have a quick fag in the courtyard.

“D’accord” Anne smiles “Je te rejoins dans une minute, hein.”[2]

Julie makes her way outside. She can feel the alcohol now as the fresh evening air is hitting her lungs. She can hear the music and the voices from inside, there is one other group of people smoking, standing in the opposite corner, she nods at them and smiles, - leans against the wall and lights her cigarette and takes a deep drag.

A moment later Anne appears. “Tu me laisses une?”[3] she asks, smiling, gesturing at the pack in Julie’s hand.

“Sure, “ she says, lights one for her, then hands it over – consciously imitating the film noir style.

Anne smiles, smokes. Looks at Julie. “Tu t’amuses?” she asks.

“Tes amis sont gentils.” Julie says by answer, finishes her cigarette.

Anne smokes – keeps her intense gaze trained on Julie. Then she stubs out her cigarette. Julie admires the easy elegance that infuses Anne’s every move. She realizes Anne has been speaking to her, “sorry?” she says apologetically.

“Je disais - que je voudrais bien te baiser”[4] Anne repeats, softly, moving closer to Julie. Julie again feels the nervous flutter at the younger woman’s proximity. Anne meets her eyes steadily and gently caresses Julie’s face with her fingertips. When she closes the remaining distance, her lips are warm, she leans into Julie and it becomes a wonderful, quite heated kiss. Julie can feel all kinds of thoughts crowding in on her mind – about how ridiculous it is for her to act like she is twenty-two, that she’s overdoing the rebound act, that she barely knows this woman – but the feeling of Anne’s lips on hers, Anne’s body leaning into hers, desire, rising, drown out the doubts. She’s on vacation and just for one night she does not want to think about how unmoored she actually feels or how that feeling affects her momentary behavior.

Eventually they go back inside, join the others – who just grin at them as they sit down. Someone has ordered two bottles of red – Isabelle hands a glass to Julie. She takes a sip and feels herself buzzing with a combination of nicotine and alcohol, and snogging a beautiful young woman in a back courtyard in the South of France.

***

Julie sighs as she hears a delivery car rumble down the street somewhere outside. She still refuses to let herself think about how this sudden bout of insouciance paired with intense emotions would have been more characteristic of a quite a bit younger Julie. Despite the throbbing in her temples, she dozes off again.

The next time she wakes up, the room is light, her head still feels a bit fuzzy, but generally not as bad as before. Gill isn’t next to her anymore – Julie fishes her phone out of her purse, discarded on the floor, to look at the time. Ten thirty.

She groans inwardly – Gill will probably be chipper and decidedly not hung-over, and ready to press Julie for details of her evening, after her sniffling performance last night upon getting home. Maybe she should just stay in bed?

***

_Gill_

When Julie slinks into the living room, at a quarter to eleven she looks quite embarrassed, and Gill feels a bit sorry for her. Whatever happened last night and whether her snog with Anne was as fantastic as she says it was, something seems to have shaken her.

“Good morning, Slap,” she says, and smiles. “I went out and got some croissants – if you want one – was going to make some fresh coffee just now, why don’t you just sit your backside down - it’ll only be a minute.”

“Since when have you been up?” Julie asks, wearily.

“Oh, the usual. . . 8” Gill says. Julie sits down and tears into her croissant.

“I’m sorry I woke you last night” Julie says with her mouth full.

“It’s alright” Gill says “but you could have stayed out, Slap, you know. . . you didn’t need to come back on my account. If the evening was going as wonderful as you said – ” she probes, carefully keeping her face neutral.

Julie drags her fingers through her hair, and looks at Gill, then at the croissant, as if studying it. “I don’t know,” she says – tearing another strip off, “One minute it was wonderful and I thought I was falling in love and the next – I just felt so ridiculous. Hanging out with this crowd. It was like none of them even noticed my age – they were so oblivious and everyone just accepted that I was there and I was wondering –does this happen like every other week - one of them picks up some middle-aged woman. . . Like they didn’t even ask me what I do for a living, or why I was there, or how I knew Anne?“

Julie now seems quite agitated. And Gill sits down opposite her, looks at her steadily. “Anne might have told them beforehand - and maybe they didn’t care? I mean, about your age; it likely really didn’t matter to them. And why should it? –” Gill tries really hard to focus on her sympathy for Julie, ignoring the uncomfortable hard kernel of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. 

“Because they’re all – _bloody_ students –“ Julie grinds out.

The espresso starts to bubble and Gill gets up again to turn the gas of and pours them two cups, sets one down in front of Julie.

“Okay, so does that mean you don’t want to see her again, then?” Gill asks.

“I – “ Julie helplessly shrugs her shoulders.

“Well when you left – what did you tell her - did you give her your number – or do you have her number?” Gill asks.

“I – things were a bit blurry at that point, but I told her. . . I just told her I couldn’t stay over and that maybe all of this wasn’t such a good idea – I told her I’d just had a bad breakup and I really wasn’t ready for something new. . . . or some such crap” Julie sounds disgusted with herself.

“Well was it?” Gill asks, keeping her voice even and, she hopes, reassuring. “You and Annie did . . . just breakup not too long ago and you haven’t – you haven’t really said much about it, and I didn’t want to push you – you seemed to be doing quite well but I’ve been a bit worried. . . .”

Julie’s head shoots up and she frowns at Gill “Why?”

Gill breathes out, then says, “because I’ve known you for a while, and you tend to assume too readily that it’s all your fault when – when things don’t work out.”

“Well,” Julie’s voice sounds a bit hoarse now – she takes a sip of her coffee “I don’t think it’s a great secret, Gill, that I have no trouble picking women up – but I do have seem to have quite a bit of trouble in getting them to stick around. Quite a talent for scaring people off in the end.”

Gill isn’t quite sure what to say to this – because Julie looks so defeated and it exemplifies exactly what she means – that Julie seems to think that she is single-handedly responsible for whether her relationships work out or not, but before she can think of a response, Julie goes on –

“In any case – I think I just went mad for a minute - being away from the job and all the things that bog me down, usually – and the break-up... it just, felt so good to be _wanted_ , I didn’t even care how pathetic. . .” Julie’s voice wavers, and she doesn't go on.

"Slap", Gill says, unsure how to go on, how to restore Julie's confidence. “You’re entitled to a rebound I’m pretty sure,” she says, firmly. Then, trying to lighten the mood, she adds, “and you haven’t scared me of, yet.”

At that Julie looks up at Gill - looks at her earnestly, “No,” she says softly, with a smile that is half pain. She seems to be searching for words, seems to want to say more, but when her eyes meet Gill’s again, she looks away, and Gill doesn’t have the heart to push her.

Then Julie groans and puts her face in her hands. “I wonder if this is what blokes feel like when they pick those two-door sports cars – does it just remind them off their actual age?”

“I’ve yet to meet a bloke to pick up on those subtle ironies” Gill says raising an eyebrow, and at least that coaxes a genuine smile onto Julie’s face.

***

[1] “Are we boring you?” | “You are very beautifuly” | “You are . . . astounding”

[2] „I’ll join you in a minute.”

[3] “Will you let me have one?” | “Are you having a good time?” | “Your friends are nice”

[4] “I said that I would really like to kiss you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected shock. And a confrontation.

Chapter 6:

_Julie_

The next day, they finally rent a car and make the forty-five minute drive to Nîmes. Julie is driving, Gill navigates them via google maps. They find a parking spot near Les Jardins de La Fontaine and decide to walk into the center from there.

Gill insists that they go see the Musée de la Romanité first, seeing that she has been looking forward to this since before they left Manchester. Julie feels quite exhausted, didn’t sleep well the last night – thinking about Anne, feeling embarrassed that she ever went to the cinema one minute and like a coward for not letting Anne take her to bed in the next, which just means she is happy to let Gill make the decisions for the day.

“Well common, Slap,” Gill says, pointing down the alleyway “it’s just right there, move your backside, lady.”

Julie’s about to retort that she’s able to keep up with Gill’s short legs any day of the week, thank you very much, when Gill abruptly stops, and stares at a group of women sauntering down the street in their direction.

“What’s up?” Julie asks, when she sees how pale her friend has just gone.

Gill looks at her, seems to rouse herself as if from paralysis – gives Julie a stilted smile, “Nothing, just – felt a bit queasy all of a sudden.”

“Gill” Julie says tentatively, looking at the women again, who are just now passing them, chatting. There’s four of them, in their thirties, early forties maybe, dangling glamorous purses and expensive shopping bags from their arms, but she notices nothing unusual, nothing that would explain Gill’s reaction. “What just happened? Do you know those women?”

“No. . . It’s nothing” Gill says again, irritation in her voice. “Just need to have a sip of water.“

They move into the shade at the side of the alley. Julie observes her closely, noticing Gill’s clenched jaw, and her tight fingers extracting the small water bottle from her purse, still pale and looking like she’s trying hard to breathe evenly.

“Do you feel sick?” Julie asks, worried.

“No, I just . . . need a _bloody_ minute, okay?” Gill hisses at her and Julie backs off.

They stand there for a moment, Gill taking small sips from the bottle, Julie feeling at a loss, because Gill looked like she was having a heart attack or a stroke, or like she’d seen a ghost, but clearly she is too bloody stubborn to tell Julie what’s going on. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Gill shiver and she’s thinking maybe sunstroke.

She moves closer to Gill again and lifts her hand to put it up to Gill’s forehead to check whether she’s running a fever. But Gill stakes a step back, “Will you just, l _eave it_ – I’m perfectly fine” - she grinds out.

“Fine then” Julie retorts, deeply annoyed with Gill now, “Let’s just go to the sodding museum then,” and she walks away with big strides, towards the building entrance.

When Gill catches up with her at the museum doors, she shoots her an apologetic look – “I’m sorry, Slap. I promise, I’m fine.”

“Right” Julie answers, not convinced. 

They pay and enter, Julie trailing Gill who seems studiously absorbed in the exhibit now, while she takes in very little of it, trying to watch her friend unobtrusively. She’s convinced something is up because this is exactly the kind of behavior Gill displays when she pretends to be in control and she’s not. Like when Julie first tried to talk to her about the rumors circulating about Dave’s misadventures, like when Julie and Janet tried to talk to her about drinking on the job. She knows that Gill knows that she’s watching her – which is probably why she takes an eternity to read each descriptive label, and each plaque with historical background. Will probably remember every damn detail of it, too.

Julie knows the best thing is just to let it drop. Gill seems fine now, and maybe she is overreacting. But a different kind of realization sets in. For much of this vacation she’s felt like they tapped back into the ties of their friendship– that deep trust. Yet, something has also shifted. She has to admit that she hasn’t been in touch with Gill as much, after the kidnapping, after her retirement, and who knows what all might be haunting her in the aftermath of that. Or what if she does have health issues? Julie is absolutely certain Gill would try to hide any bad news in that department from her as long as possible. She feels cold, all of a sudden. She also feels guilty for being wrapped up in her own life, for not checking in on Gill more often. She gives up on observing Gill, finds a bench nearby and sinks down on it, pretending to be interested the roman columns opposite it.

Gill finally takes pity on her, and takes her to lunch in the museum café. Everything seems fairly normal, except that Julie catches Gill’s eyes dart around quickly a few times, like she’s checking the room for someone, and she doesn’t finish her salad.

The rest of the day passes fairly pleasantly, if somewhat tensely, as both Julie and Gill make an effort to be courteous to one another. But Julie knows she can’t just let this go – not again. She doesn’t want to risk a scene in public, so she waits until they get back to their apartment.

On the drive back Julie asks Gill questions about the exhibit, eager to keep her talking and in safe conversational territory. But when they are back at the apartment, she corners Gill in the kitchen as Gill busies herself putting on water for tea.

Julie takes a deep breath. “Are you finally going to tell me what happened earlier?”

Gill whips around and glares at her. Julie can see pink spots appear on her sharp cheekbones. “I told you it was nothing. So can you just let it go? I just felt weird for a moment, the moment passed, I am _fine_.”

“I don’t think it was nothing” Julie says, straightening herself up putting her hand on her hip. She’s towering over Gill now. “I know that look in your eyes when you are avoiding me.” Julie is acting on instinct, hoping that she isn’t just terribly overreacting, that she actually knows her friend as well as she thinks she does.

Gill sets the two mugs she’s just taken out of the cupboard down sharply.

“Will you stop nagging me? If I wanted my mother along on vacation, I would have asked her. Or Janet.”

Julie can feel her own pulse accelerate with anger. “Oh, so it’s you who asked me on vacation, then?” she asks sarcastically.

“No,” Gill is staring daggers at her now, chin lifted, defiantly, “No that was you, of course, because you needed a last-minute replacement for Annie when she buggered off with someone else.”

“That’s not. . .,” Julie breathes in heavily, trying not to yell, “That’s unfair and you know it.”

“Oh why don’t you just fuck off” Gill retorts, turning on the stove and slamming the pot onto the gas flame.

“Because you, Gillian Murray, are behaving like a bloody irrational cow, who doesn’t know the first thing about what’s good for her, but what you do know, excellently, is how to hurt people because you pick up on people’s insecurities the minute you meet them and then you use it against them . . . “ her voice has gotten louder now and she doesn’t care whether people can hear her on the street. “Rachel Bailey is still bloody traumatized for exactly that - ”

Gill whirls around, “Leave Rachel out of it!”

“Why?” Julie immediately knows she’s hit a nerve “Because heaven forbid Gill Murray have any unprofessional thoughts, ever, is anything less than _fucking perfect_ , for even a minute?”

They stare at each other, and for a second Gill’s expression wavers, but then she sets her jaw and just keeps glaring at Julie with a haughty expression.

Julie feels bone-tired all of a sudden. “Right,” she says, “I’m going to take a shower.”

There is no answer.

She takes her time in the shower, wondering how on earth this fight escalated so quickly. She has the feeling that she’s missing something elemental and there’s an underlying panic that something between her and Gill has unraveled that she neither knows how to place nor repair.

When she emerges from the bathroom, in comfortable jeans and a wide soft jumper, Gill is standing on the narrow balcony, smoking, frowning at the world in general, Julie takes a cigarette out the pack on the table, lights it, leans against the railing, next to Gill. Close enough that their arms are almost touching.

“I’m sorry about what I said about Annie” Gill says quietly.

“I’m sorry what I said about Rachel,” Julie replies, equally quietly. They look out onto the courtyard.

“On the street,” Gill begins again, “one of those women, the one with the shiny bag, the light caught in it, somehow and it glinted, like. . . like a blade. . . of a knife – and – for a second I though that woman was Helen Bartlett – and I know,” she throws her hands up in frustration, “I know - I knew immediately _then_ it couldn’t be her, but - my whole body just went numb, and I couldn’t breathe. . .”

Julie sees Gill’s chin quiver, but she doesn’t reach out, grabs the rail and forces herself to stay still, to give Gill space to explain herself.

“I’m . . . I felt like I was losing my mind. Some days I . . . ” Gill stops. Exhales. Starts again “How is it that this one incident – this one incident shook me up so badly, after all my years on the force, how is that possible? It’s a year and a half later and for the longest time I’ll be perfectly fine and then . . . sometimes I randomly feel like I have to turn on all the lights at home – or I don’t feel I can leave the house? I’ll be fine and I’ll forget about it and then . . . “

“Did you talk to the psychologist about it?” Julie asks, carefully.

Gill makes a disgusted sound. “I stopped going. I tried someone else but they just kept asking me how I feel. Kept telling me that this is normal, that I have to accept it. As _part of the process._ I don’t want . . . I refuse . . . .”

***

_Gill_

She feels so humiliated. She knows Julie wants to help her, but Julie just doesn’t get it -

Gill clenches her jaw, balls her hands into fists, fighting it, but the sob escapes her anyhow.

She can see Julie looking at her almost grimly, a pained expression on her face.

She looks straight at Gill, who’s still fighting tears. “I wanted to come see you after the kidnapping.” Julie starts, unexpectedly, “But then I had to go through the debriefing first, and then Janet texted me that you’d gone ahead with the party and the thought of arriving at the house and seeing you in the middle of all these people . . . playing hostess at a party. I couldn’t do it, just couldn’t. I thought you were so daft for doing that and it was so typical of you to do that.”

Tears are making tracks the side of Julie’s nose now. “And Annie was pushing for a promotion at work then and she said she really needed me to support her, and I had begged off so many occasions before, and so I didn’t check up on you like I’d planned the next week and then I said no when you asked me to accept that service medal for you, because Annie had a thing at work, and wanted me to go with her. And when I saw you next you were so put together and I thought I’d overreacted and then I got absorbed in work again then when Janet called – because . . . to tell me they were worried about you, during the Pritchard case – and I thought – I realized I’d really made a mess of it. . . “ Julie sniffs and wipes her face with her sleeve.

“Julie,” Gill interrupts her, deliberately saying her name, “Julie Dodson on what planet would that be _you_ making a mess of it? None of that was your fault. I handled the pressure badly. This was on me, not you. I just hated. . . I _hate_ \- being vulnerable - being weak. . . ” she trails off.

Julie now looks at her genuinely puzzled. “Gill, you are so brilliant, but you can be so absolutely maddening” she makes a helpless gestures. You must know that nobody would have thought, would _ever_ think any less of you for admitting once in a while that you’re not invincible. You didn’t think that Janet was weak because she took time off when she got stabbed, did you? – Never would have occurred to you to think that.”

“No” Gill admits, “but Janet almost died. I. . . “ she doesn’t know how to explain to Julie that her own situation feels different.

Julie flashes her an angry look. “ _You_ almost died, you . . . can you just _–_ I was _there_ , remember? I was watching that bloody car the whole sodding time, on those screens, and I thought, what if I make the wrong choice? What if I don’t get her out in time?”

And seeing the pain on Julie’s face is too much, Gill has to turn away, walk away. She flees into the bedroom, sits down on the bed and buries her face in her hands. She’s angry and sorry and ashamed for putting Julie in that position, and Rachel, and Janet and Sammy, and. . .

She feels Julie sit down next to her and then Julie’s arms come around her and hold her tight. Secure. She feels the press of Julie’s lips on her hair, feels herself wrapped up in Julie. For a moment, she wants to fight the embrace, wants to run from the room, but then her resistance breaks and she gives in and lets herself be held by Julie.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to admit defeat every once in a while, and to be grateful she has Julie to hold on to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing a meal - sharing some memories - and finally - something clicks.

Chapter 7:

_Gill_

On Thursday morning, Gill doesn’t wakes until 9, and even then she feels quite exhausted from the previous day. Her mouth is dry and her eyes feel grainy. She also feels a bit shy in front of Julie, who, however, doesn’t seem to think that her friend’s sobbing performance the previous evening was particularly embarrassing, or at least doesn’t let on if she does. Instead Julie smiles at her over the rim of her cup in that soft way that always catches Gill a bit off guard and proposes that they’ll take it easy and to take a walk to Alyscamps and leave driving down to Aix for another day. After a slow breakfast and a lazy morning they stroll down to the edge of town to visit the large Roman necropolis in the early afternoon; it’s a graveyard, but also a world heritage site and, Gill thinks, despite being a bit morbid it’s also a quite beautiful place.

They walk silently for the most part, but it’s a comfortable silence. At some point, they spot a low stone bench in the shade and sit down for a while. Gill clears her throat and turns to Julie. “I should take you out for a nice meal tonight,” she says – “there is a place I read about – something “cricket” – and it sounds very nice, this place. And I think we could both use a bit of cheering up.” She hopes Julie will accept this as the thank you she means it to be.

Julie smiles - “Sounds lovely, actually.”

“Only you’ll have to call them and ask for a table because – as you know I’m useless in French” Gill says apologetically.

Once back at the apartment, they find the number for the place on Gill’s phone – “Le Criquet” – Julie calls them and they’re lucky enough to get a table at seven thirty, before the general evening crowd will descend sometime after nine.

Like so many places in France, you don’t choose just a dish but a whole menu and everything is absolutely lovely.

They order a bottle of white and even before the appetizers arrive they get to talking about the good old times when they just started out and propped each other up against the blokes who thought women shouldn’t be on the force at all. They keep on recalling story after story and they end up with tears in their eyes laughing so hard about their superior’s face that time when Gill simply outran him, tripped and handcuffed the prime suspect of the case, who was twice her size, and about the time when Julie pulled the girlfriend of a particularly knobheaded colleague of theirs onto the dance-floor at the pub one night, when he got drunk and wouldn’t stop making daft comments - and it looked like the girlfriend was ready to go home with Julie instead of him after the song ended.

“I think she actually left him” Julie says, wiping her eyes, “about a week later. Because he came to confront me about it. Could have been unpleasant but he just disappeared, shortly after.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“We will never know,” Julie smirks.

The crème brûlée that arrives for dessert tastes so amazing that Julie playfully raises an eyebrow at the indecent sound Gill makes when she puts the first spoonful in her mouth. But Gill is fairly sure it’s Julie who actually blushes a little when Gill insists on paying the bill. “I said I’d invite you, Slap.”

When they leave, it’s only a little after nine and the evening is mild. “I’m not tired,” Gill says “Let’s go for a walk.”

On the next square, they pass what looks like a spontaneous party. A loose crowd has formed around a small band of two young men, one with a drum between his knees and the other with a guitar and woman playing the clarinet. To their rhythms an elegant couple is dancing – Gill recognizes the salsa moves from her bouts of late-night binging _Strictly Come Dancing_. Some people are clapping or snapping along with the rhythm, some gently swaying to the beats. Gill is mesmerized by the dancers’ elegant flowing movements, but when she looks over at Julie, to see whether she’s equally in awe, she finds that Julie is looking at the clarinet player instead. The woman must be in her thirties, she has a thick braid of black hair, muscular arms and a curvy figure wrapped in flowery summer dress. On her face a look Gill finds hard to place, between abandon and stern concentration. Gill touches Julie’s elbow lightly and Julie finally looks at her. Then she tilts her head indicating an open spot on the stairs of a nearby building, where people are already perched in various constellations, watching the spectacle in the square. 

“My mom really wanted me to learn an instrument when I got to seventh grade -” Julie says, when they are seated. “My school had gotten some grant and music teachers from the conservatory would come over, to teach us Thursday afternoons. I think my mom hoped I would pick the violin. She probably thought I would magically show some hidden talent and turn into the next Anne Sophie Mutter. I chose the clarinet, mostly because my friend Raimey actually decided to learn the trumpet and that way we could be in band together.

Julie laughs. “I don’t think I ever showed much talent or anything, but I did enjoy playing in band – just making music in a group, you know? Being part of it even though I only had about three notes to play . . . That woman over there kind of looks like my clarinet teacher did then. She would be over sixty now. I had such a crush on her, then.” Julie chuckles to herself, and Gill sits close enough that she feels rather than hears the deep sound next to her, which doesn’t quite carry over the music.

Gill looks at Julie and tries to imagine her, as a gangly thirteen-year old with a clarinet case and it makes her smile fondly. “About a year later the grant ran out” Julie continues “paying for private lessons was not even a question” – she looks pensive for a moment. “But to be honest, by then Ray and I had become more interested in stealing away for smokes on the old factory grounds.” She shrugs and then grins. Gill thinks of her own agonizing six months of ballet lessons as an eight year old. She’d begged her mum for lessons after seeing a ballerina in some movie or other, only to find that she hated the teacher, couldn’t make friends with the other girls, and despite her petite figure, which was just _perfect_ for a ballerina (as the teacher had exclaimed when arrived for the first lesson) her body did not enjoy any of the ways in which it was supposed to bend and fold and stretch. At ten years old she’d discovered she loved to play soccer with the boys, although they only let her participate when they were short a player, and then she’d found a passion in running. She’d kept it up, and during police training, running had helped her clear her head whenever she could find the time for it in her busy schedule. She can’t remember when exactly she stopped. Sometime after Sammy was born. She makes a private resolution to get back into it when she gets home. She needs something that gets her our of the house. She looks at Julie again and catches her watching her out of the corner of her eyes. They smile at each other. They sit on the stairs and watch the dancers. They clap and cheer along with the rest of the crowd when the musicians leave off and the dancers bow and Julie gets up to drop some money in the hat they’re passing around.

Then they wander on through the streets only to be greeted by another small crowd a few blocks over, standing around a sort of pop-up bar, chatting and laughing. It’s a bit like a coffee cart, but with crushed ice and mint leaves and booze and Julie laughs with delight and insists on buying them each a Mint Julep to go.

They stroll on. “Thank you for asking me to come along, Slap” Gill says “for this trip. I didn’t realize how much I needed to get out of Manchester until I got here.” And she means it. Despite her spectacularly embarrassing melt-down the previous day, despite her exhaustion in the morning, she somehow feels lighter and taller today as a result of Julie’s steady presence. The fact that she didn’t blame Gill, didn’t tell her what she ought to do, but simply held her.

In contrast to the busy squares, the canal is almost deserted by this hour. Most people are at dinner now, tucked away in restaurants somewhere or at home.

Gill is surprised when Julie takes her hand, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m glad you came along” Julie says – “Somebody’s got to save me from myself.” She pauses, “I think I knew for a while that Annie and I weren’t going to work out,” she adds then – “I did really want it to,” she shakes her head sadly, “but not for the right reasons . . .”

Gill sighs, “Well sometimes what we think are the right reasons turn out to be horrible reasons – look at me sticking with Dave. . . _you_ knew he was rubbish from the beginning, too. You _told_ me, remember?” and she laughs, but Julie looks thoughtful, like she’s remembering something.

Gill glances sideways at Julie who takes a sip from her drink and then says “You know, I never told you this, and honestly I didn’t admit it to myself for the longest time – but, at the time when you met Dave – I used to have quite the crush on you.”

“You did not” Gill yelps in surprise, laughing, half convinced Julie is taking the piss.

“No, I did” Julie affirms, “You were so wonderful and spunky and smart . . . still are,“ she smiles a bit wistfully.

“You never said anything” Gill protests, still not sure whether to believe Julie or not and trying to ignore the fluttery feeling that has suddenly taken over her stomach.

“No,” Julie said. “I thought about it, but in the end, I decided I didn’t want to ruin our friendship over it. If you said no, that would’ve been one thing. But what if you’d said yes – and then it would have gone the way my other relationships had – I couldn’t have coped with that” there’s a bit of sadness in her voice now. “And anyways,” she adds –

Gill opens her mouth but before she can say anything Julie forges on,

“By the time I’d worked out for myself that I really did fancy you quite a lot, you’d gone and gotten engaged to Dave and that was that.” She shrugs. “I decided not to dwell on it. . . ” She thinks for a moment “And I met Yasmin” she shrugs again. 

Gill nods. Yasmin had been Julie’s first really long-term relationship since she’d known her. Lasted almost six years. They broke up when Yasmin wanted a baby, which Julie wasn’t opposed to per se, but Yasmin insisted that her best friend would be the father and after meeting him once Julie was convinced that he wanted to have the family _with_ Yasmin, but without her, Julie, in the picture. The fights over that had escalated until Julie had finally given up – heartbroken. Gill remembers it well because these were the earliest fights she can remember in her relationship with Dave. She canceled plans with him because Julie needed her – he didn’t understand – didn’t see why Julie couldn’t go and inflict her problems on someone else instead. Dave thought they were spending too much time together anyhow.

Maybe Dave, thick as he was, picked up on something. She remembers how angry she was with him. And she remembers something else -

“Thing is,” Gill says, encouraged by the alcohol and the general confessional atmosphere the evening’s taken on – “I did wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”

Now it’s Julie’s turn to look at Gill like she’s just pulling her leg.

“Sometimes, when we’d go dancing” Gill continues “That time, I’d begged you to take me with you to that gay club. . . I always thought you were so damn attractive.” Gill smiles widely at Julie, because really, she still thinks that – then she turns thoughtful.

“But I didn’t want you to think I was, you know, using you. One of those annoying straight women who’s just. . . what’s it called now. . . _bicurious_. And then I thought to myself – well just because she likes women doesn’t mean that she likes _all_ women – But, I think I would have been disappointed if you’d turned me down. I wouldn’t have known how to ask, anyhow. . . and then, yeah, I was worried about losing you as my best friend. . . and then I met Dave” she sighs, “ -and I thought everything was right with the world.”

Julie huffs out a laugh, that sounds more like a scoff. Gill looks off in the distance.

They sit down on a low wall by the water, the stone still warm from the day. And Gill thinks how strange it is that whereas the day before she wanted to flee the scene rather than let Julie see her tears, now even after what they both just said, she still doesn’t feel awkward – feels entirely comfortable with Julie.

“I don’t think I would have,” Julie says quietly.

“Would have what?” Gill asks.

“Turned you down.”

“Oh. . . “

They’re both quiet. Gill can feel something in her stomach flutter again, and something clicks into place. With he free hand, she steadies herself on the warm stone of the wall on which they are sitting against the feeling of rapidly free-falling, but for all the times in her life that she’s played it safe, she decides to forge on.

“Do you think we should try now?” she says, barely keeping her voice from shaking.

Julie stares at her, burst into laughter, stops abruptly when Gill doesn’t join in.

“You are serious?”

“I am serious.”

“What about ruining our friendship?” Julie asks in a small voice that Gill can’t decide whether it sounds scared or hopeful.

Gill meets Julie’s glance. “We’ve been friends for the better part of thirty years now. I don’t think – I hope one kiss couldn’t ruin that.”

She moves closer to Julie who looks at her like she’s not sure whether Gill is serious, whether she’s comprehensively taking the piss, or whether she’s lost her mind.

Gill puts her hand on Julie’s arm. “You can say no,” she says.

Julie swallows, seems to struggle to find her voice. “I don’t want to say no. I think I’m just. . .“ she laughs nervously “panicking.”

“Shouldn’t it be me who is panicking?” Gill says very softly. “I’m the one who’s never kissed a woman before.” She is close enough now that she can feel Julie’s breath and then her lips touch Julie’s lips and Julie makes a small whimpering sound that shoots straight through Gill’s nervous system.

She meant it to be a short kiss but once she starts she seems entirely unable to stop, like she’s just discovered breathing. Her hands come up and cradle Julie’s face and Julie reaches for her and pulls her close.

When they break apart, gasping, Gill feels utterly stunned. “Bloody hell” she says. Then she sees Julie’s eyes glistening.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Slap, I shouldn’t have. . . “ She doesn’t know what to say.

“No it’s not that” Julie sniffs a bit embarrassed, tries to smile, but it’s wobbly. “It’s just – I didn’t realize how much. . . I don’t think I want to stop now. . .”

At that, Gill grins, “who said anything about stopping?”

And then Julie smiles that warm, almost languid smile of hers, and Gill feels that she wants to curl into this woman and never let her go. And she kisses her again.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed the phrase of "curling into the woman" from Bernadine Evaristo's "Girl, Woman, Other" because it's such a vibrant, brilliant image to me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vacation is about to end. How will these two deal with the shift in their situation? 
> 
> Final Chapter. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, last installment. I've been toying with the idea of a second part, back in Manchester - which would be parallel to season 5. But we'll see if I can find time and inspiration.

Chapter 8:

_Gill_

Gill wakes up in bed with Julie, like she has done for the last week and a half, and yet it’s entirely different. For one thing, Julie’s body is curled warmly against her side, which fills her with a silly, happy feeling that sends a tingly thrill through her insides. For another, when Gill tries to cautiously shift away from Julie to get up and make some coffee as she usually does, Julie emits a soft grunt, slings her arm across Gill’s waist and cuddles closer, so that Gill has no choice but to stay put.

After a minute she or so she maneuvers herself around, so that she’s facing Julie who smiles against her hand, eyes remaining closed, when Gill starts to gently caress her face.

_Julie_

Julie wakes up in bed with Gill, like she has done for the last week and a half and yet it’s entirely different. For one thing, she wakes first, and finds herself halfway draped around Gill’s small, angular but soft form and decides there and then that _this_ is as close to perfect as life has ever gotten. When she feels movement next to her, accompanied by a sudden loss of warmth, she reaches out sleepily to pull Gill back towards her. She smiles when she feels Gill gently stroking her face, and for a moment, she doesn’t dare open her eyes, irrationally afraid that it will all evaporate – that she’s dreaming.

When she does open her eyes, squinting against the morning light filtering in through the curtains, Gill’s face comes into view, blurry at first, and she hears rather than sees her smile, “Morning, Slap.”

Then Gill moves away once more and Julie clumsily grabs at her again to make her stay.

“Hey, I need the loo” – Gill says laughing, extricating herself. Julie drifts back into a half-sleep, hearing Gill clatter around the kitchen, only opening her eyes gain, when the bedroom door squeaks open and Gill sets own a streaming mug on the floor next to her side of the bed, having made their morning coffee.

“Are you gonna move your arse out of that bed, lady?” Gill says, plunking herself down on the edge of the bed and giving Julie her best DCI stare. “It’s nine thirty.”

_Gill_

Gill decides that Julie, grumpily half-asleep, bleary-eyed with mussed hair and some lines from her pillow imprinted on her right cheek, looks beautiful. Gill also decides that retirement must be making her soft and soppy to feel so ridiculously happy to look at this lazy morning grouch who still hasn’t shown any intention of getting out of bed.

When she feels Julie’s arms reach around her and pull, she just has enough time to put down her mug before Julie is tugging her down next to her, and then, with a surprisingly quick motion, rolling over, effectively pins her down. Gill looks up in surprise, and a bit irritated “Oi! I could have spilled that coffee all over us” and a grin spreads across Julie’s face.

“It’s your own fault for barking at people in the early morning, like Godzilla,” she says making Gill mock-gasp at hearing that nickname again, “It’s time that someone explained this whole concept of retirement to you, Gill Murray.”

And then Julie all but swoops down on Gill, still grinning and proceeds to kiss her thoroughly and their coffee grows cold, untouched.

***

_Julie:_

It’s their last night in Arles and Julie is pretending to sleep. Gill is lying with her back towards Julie, her dark hair only half peaking out from under the covers. Julie feels a wave of tenderness even as she fights the urge to throw back the covers and get out of bed.

They’re packed and ready to catch the train back to Paris first thing in the morning. Gill made a half-hearted attempt to convince Julie to change their flights, stay a few nights in Paris – but of course Gill understands as well as Julie that she will not be able to get any more time off work on such short notice. She’ll be back at her desk in two days. Back in Manchester. It feels unfair, to have to give up her newfound light-heartedness so quickly to old routines and everyday life. But will it be old routines?

Julie stares at hard at the crack of the ceiling, barely visible in the dim light filtering in from the street - she feels like she can’t quite catch her breath. She realizes she’s afraid of returning to England – afraid it will ruin whatever has happened in the last few days. Days in which she has been preposterously happy. She’s felt incredibly grounded and dizzily soaring at the same time. To hold on to beautiful, generous, radiant Gill has been her condensed and sharp desire over those days – seeing the sights, trying out a few more new restaurants and going for their regular walk at the canal in the evening, has become a sweet torture to Julie - all in anticipation of the moment when she will take Gill’s hand to pull her through the door of the apartment and take her to bed. By unspoken agreement, they don't go back to the bar where they met Anne. There are much more pressing desires than a nightcap. Feeling Gill smile against her own lips as she kisses her with all the urgency and tenderness that has been building all day, Julie would swear any oath she’s never been happier.

And yet, deep down she’s afraid to trust her happiness.

Are they doing this for all the wrong reasons? Gill is lonely and still fighting the trauma of her kidnapping, and she herself is probably overcompensating for the fact that Annie left her. Julie isn’t good on her own, she knows this. She can do it because she’s got her job to hold on to, but she is prone to falling head over heels in love, and she’s learned over the years to be cautious about that feeling.

But then, loving Gill isn’t head over heels. In a ways it’s been long and steady and gleaming. And yet. There was a reason, there must have been a reason, many reasons that they’ve not ended up in bed together earlier in their lives - only she cannot think of a single one of them when she looks at Gill’s sleeping form now tucked safely under the covers.

Julie sighs, turns over, scrunches up her pillow and tries to settle down. The niggling voice in the back of her mind doesn’t give up. Even if she were to trust her own feelings – what about Gill’s? Gill, who is struggling to cope with the changes in her life – and Julie is familiar, safe. But Gill has been so firmly heterosexual all her life – how long will it take until she realizes that she’d rather look for another guy? Now that was definitely one of the reasons – the reason that Julie never pursued her feelings for Gill all those years ago. That’s unfair, too; Julie doesn’t believe that sexuality is a fixed entity – but that doesn’t keep her from anxiously wondering if she’s pushing an insecure Gill into something that she won’t actually want in the long term.

Long term. Julie turns on her back again – stares at the ceiling again. She is wide awake. Quietly, she extricates herself from underneath the covers and crosses the room, feeling the cool tiles under the soles of her bare feet. In the living room, she grabs a cigarette and the lighter from the packet still lying on the table and goes to stand one the tiny balcony in the cool night air, shivering slightly, lighting her cigarette. Looking out into the quiet courtyard calms her, and she already feels nostalgic for this place.

When she hears Gill come out of the bedroom, likewise barefooted on the tiles, Julie only turns slightly, just enough to indicate to Gill that she’s aware of her. Gill slides up next to her at the railing, lights a cigarette in turn. “Can’t sleep?” Gill asks.

And Julie opens her mouth, but can’t quite find a way to give voice to any of the myriad thoughts swirling around in her mind – or the anxious feeling in her gut. “Sorry if I woke you,” she says instead, suddenly feeling chilly, unsure of whether she’s ready to explain herself – worried what the consequences will be if she doesn’t get it right.

Gill shifts, leans her weight against Julie’s side, slightly. “You’ve had that worried look in your eyes all evening,” she says. Julie tenses, but waits – “and knowing you, that means you’re probably talking yourself into an explanation of how this is all your fault” Gill continues bluntly, as Julie opens her mouth to protest, but then closes it again, because Gill’s assessment isn’t terribly far from the truth. “We haven’t really talked about . . .” Gill hesitates and Julie can sense her struggling with herself “we haven’t really talked about what happened.”

“It’s been – so familiar and new at the same time – it’s. . .” Gill takes a deep drag from her cigarette and when Julie looks over she can see that Gill’s hands are trembling and her jaw is set firmly.

Gill turns more fully towards her now, seeking her gaze, a determined but also vulnerable look in her eyes. “I’m no good at this – emotions – I’ve never been, but – the last months. . .” she inhales shakily, “I don’t know why this – why this is happening now, and I’m . . . ” Julie can see Gill strying to find the words and part of her wants to reach out, but she stands, hands glued to the railing. “I can give you no good explanations – but I do want you to know this . . . us . . .” Gill rakes her free hand through her hair in frustration, “Oh this is ridiculous,” she huffs at herself, and Julie feels herself smile in response at Gill’s stubbornness, even as she’s scared that Gill might be trying to let her down easy.

“I really don’t want to say this,” Gill continues, “because I hate sounding like a soppy cow, but I think it’s only fair that you know – I’m not ready for this to end, Slap. I’m not.”

At that Julie laughs out loud, because Gill is the only person she knows who can make an emotional declaration and sound belligerent while doing it.

She reaches for Gill then, who frowns defensively at Julie’s laughter, and pulls her close. “I’m not either,” she says quietly, wondering if Gill can feel her heart beat violently in her chest, a strange galloping of anxiety, relief, and desire, that makes her hold on tighter to Gill. 

***

_Gill:_

As Gill feels Julie’s arms come around her she clings fiercely to her, hoping to convey without words, what she meant to say, the words that wouldn’t leave her mouth, the words she’s been thinking all day, _I think I’m falling in love with you, Julie._

New love, it’s not something that Gill has done since she was much younger, and much less bitter about the world. Her relationship with Chris was fun and easygoing, but neither one of them had any illusions about romantic entanglements. And Julie, well Julie isn’t exactly new love either – she’s loved her for over twenty years – just not – not in this way that makes her skin tingle, and her mind go blank, and her words feel to heavy to roll off her tongue, and why would she bother talking if she can kiss Julie instead?

And maybe it will not be such an impossible step, if she can kiss her here, at 1:30 in the morning on a tiny balcony in the South of France, to kiss her tomorrow arriving at her own house, or in Julie’s apartment, in Manchester, over dinner, over a glass of wine, to kiss her when she comes home from work in her crisp work blouse, blazer and high heels, to kiss her in the morning, waking up, over a brew. And she smiles against Julie’s collarbone realizing that however hellishly scared she is of that uncertain future, she wants just that. Pressing a kiss onto the cool skin of Julie’s bare shoulder, she murmurs – “Let’s get some sleep, love. Or you’ll be completely useless in the morning,” and takes Julie’s hand pulling her back towards the bedroom. 

Julie smirks at her “Oh, right, and I have to be awake for my important mission of holding your hand on the plane,” but then she yawns involuntarily and follows Gill without further protest.

***


End file.
